


5 Simple Rules for a Successful Fake Relationship

by illfoandillfie



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Masturbation, a bit of, in the ben pov chapter but that's about as wild as it gets, nothing particularly kinky though, we're all about soft loving smut here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-02-22 11:00:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 82,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22981690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illfoandillfie/pseuds/illfoandillfie
Summary: Your's and Ben's agents approach you about pretending to date in order to boost interest in your new movie.
Relationships: Ben Hardy/Reader
Comments: 15
Kudos: 22





	1. The Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This fic was written for my good friend El on tumblr as part of a celebration she hosted! I took the trope 'fake dating' and this was the result! Honestly fake dating is one my my fave tropes and I've been wanting to try my hand at it for a while so this was so much fun to write! Originally it was meant to be a one shot but when have I ever been good at sticking to plans? Instead it'll probably end up as a three or four part series, maybe with an epilogue as well.
> 
> I’d also like to point out I started writing this months before we got those photos of Ben and Olivia so this was in no way inspired by anyone’s theories about whether or not their relationship is a PR stunt.

You’d known fake celebrity relationships were a thing that happened, you just never expected to be approached about one. But, here you were, sat next to Ben in an office usually reserved for producers meetings, a slight frown on his face as he listened to your agents explain how beneficial it would be if the public believed you were a couple.   
“It’ll be good for the movie,” your agent, Mary, said matter-of-factly, “Studies show that if people – particularly women ages 15 – 45, the exact demographic we’re targeting – believe a real romance sprouted during the course of filming a movie, they are 78% more likely to see the movie. Plus, your names in the tabloids mean more exposure for both of you which means more offers in future, no matter how well this movie does in the box office. It’s all about being seen, people knowing your names.”   
“Are you serious?” Ben asked slowly, glancing to you, as if trying to determine your reaction.   
“Look, Ben, obviously we can’t force you or Y/N to do this,” his agent, Peter, introduced to you moments before, said, “the movie has already started filming and everyone appreciates your opinions, so saying no isn’t going to affect your jobs. But,” he paused, making sure the words were getting through to you both, “we strongly recommend you consider it. There are enough pros to make it worthwhile and it would only have to last until a week or two after the premiere. We can give you the rest of the day to think it over and make your decisions, but we will require an answer by tomorrow morning. If you agree, we can discuss terms and get everything in order to run the first story early next week.”

You and Ben left, tempted to laugh at the strangeness of your morning.    
“Think I need a coffee after that. You wanna come over to my trailer for a cup?”   
“Yeah, okay, sounds good,” you followed him quietly for a moment, thinking over the conversation you’d just been part of, “What do you think?”   
“About what? Coffee? You know I love it,”   
“Not coffee, the whole pretending to date thing,”   
“Oh that,” you could almost hear his eyes roll.    
“You don’t think it’s worth it?”   
He paused.   
“Saying no won’t hurt my feelings,” you nudged his shoulder, hoping to ease his obvious discomfort, “it is a weird situation.”   
“Weird is an understatement. And weren’t you with that Luke guy, what would he say about it?”   
“He’ll say nothing since we’re not seeing each other anymore,”   
“Wait, what?”   
“Yeah that lasted like three dates and went nowhere, I haven’t seen him in weeks.”   
“Oh, sorry.”   
You shrugged, “What’s there to be sorry for, he was boring. Anyway, we were talking about you and me.”   
“Right, that.” Ben opened the door to his trailer and waved you inside, following you over the threshold, “What do you think about it?”   
“I’m not opposed to it. We already spend a lot of our time pretending to date anyway.”   
Ben chuckled as he flicked the small kettle on, grabbing your two mugs and the instant coffee.   
“Plus it would be good to get our names out there a bit more. And we're friends, right?” After the weeks of pre-production costume fittings and script read-throughs you certainly thought you were friends and hoped Ben did too.   
“Of course we’re friends doofus,”   
“Thanks dweeb. But that means it'll be fun getting to hang out and stuff.”    
“So, wait, you think it’s a good idea?”   
“Well it can’t hurt, can it?”   
Ben frowned, forehead creased, “Don’t you think it’s all a bit, well, daft? As if us dating, real or not, would really have an impact on the movie, I think that’s bullshit. Plus, y’know, the work we’d have to put in to making it seem real or whatever. That’s just inviting extra stress into our lives and extra work which it doesn’t sound like we’d be getting paid for. Acting’s fun but I don’t want to spend every waking moment doing it.”   
“Well it wouldn’t be every waking moment would it? Just the ones when they had photographers around. They’ll get a few photos of us leaving set holding hands or out having dinner together and spin it into a big romantic story and all we’d have to do is hold hands and have dinner. And you can’t call bullshit when they had actual statistics to back them up.”   
“It sounds like you’re trying to convince me.”   
“No, if you don’t want to I don’t mind, but I also don’t see anything wrong with it. And I think you should actually think about it instead of writing it off instantly.”   
“So if I said I was into it, you’d want to?”   
You shrugged, “Yeah. I want this movie to do well, I want this job to go somewhere. And if I have to date you to make that happen I will. That sounded better in my head. I just mean that I’m happy to pretend to date you, even if I wouldn’t in real life, no offence.”   
“I’m a little offended,” he chuckled, “but really can’t argue with that can I?”   
“If you’re not comfortable with it, say so and we’ll tell them no,”   
Ben paused, staring at you as he considered what you’d said, quiet for so long you were sure he was going to say he wasn’t interested. You were about to put him out of his misery and tell him you didn’t want to anymore when he spoke up.    
“They did say it would be good for the movie and out careers,”   
“Someone’s coming around,” you sing-songed, taking the mug he offered you.   
“Alright, I admit, maybe not as awful an idea as I first thought. There are…some pros anyway. And I guess we can hear the terms and then make up our minds properly.”   
“Aww, looks like I got myself a boyfriend,”

The next morning you found out what you were in for if you did agree to it. Once again both of your agents were waiting in the office but this time a third person was with them when you arrived.   
“Y/N, Ben, take a seat. This is Barry, he’s a representative from Paramount Pictures.”   
Barry, with his salt and pepper hair and well cut suit, leaned forward in his seat to shake Ben’s hand and then yours with a pleasant greeting.   
“Well,” Mary spoke up, “have you made a decision?”   
Ben looked to you before he spoke, “It’s a tentative yes from both of us. We’d like to hear a bit more about it before we fully agree but, so far, it sounds okay.”   
“Glad to have you on board,” Barry said, reaching into his bag and pulling out a manila folder full of paper.   
“In that case, the terms,” Peter said, glancing around to make sure everyone was ready, “If you do agree, we’ll need you to sign some paperwork stating you understand your obligations and all that, so take a copy of these,” he took two small stapled documents from Barry, handing you each one, before passing another to Mary, “just so everyone has all the info at hand.”   
“Are these the terms?”   
“Yes. Don’t worry, we’ll explain, but it’s all laid out in there if you need clarification.”   
“There’s more pages than I was expecting,” Ben said, already sounding like it was becoming too much work to worry about.   
“You don’t have to worry about the last few pages, it’s mostly just legalese. Essentially, you’ll be required to act like a couple in public. That’s really all there is to it, though contractually it’s a little more complex.”   
“What does that mean?”   
“We just need you both to agree to perform specific relationship type moments that we can sell. For instance, Y/N, we will need you to be spotted by paparazzi leaving Ben’s apartment a couple of times. Or vice versa. It is the 21st century afterall.”   
“You mean like a walk of shame?” you asked, glancing at the paper in your hand.   
“That’s not the official term on the contract but it’s more or less correct. You’ll need to change clothes, make it look like you stayed the night even if you didn’t really.”   
“Wouldn’t it be more traditional to wear the previous day’s gear?”   
“Perhaps but if you’re in the same clothes as the day before the paparazzi can’t sell the photos as easily because they can’t prove they were taken on different days. We want to make these photos easy to sell and easy to circulate. To that end, some paparazzi and gossip blogs will be tipped off by the studio and hopefully word will spread as the buzz around you gets stronger.”   
“There will also be required dates, of course. At least one of them needs to take place at the French restaurant _Boucher_ because they have a partnership with the studio. There is also a clause about an argument, provided people become interested in your relationship and we keep it going all the way to the premiere.”   
“Wait, an argument?” Ben flipped through his papers, trying to find the right section.   
“You just have to be caught arguing, or at least looking like you’re angry and about to fight, just so we can sell the whole _trouble in_ _paradise_ storyline.”   
“People like conflict,” Mary shrugged, “Otherwise all we need is the two of you to act like a couple in public, maybe a few social media posts, from now until a week after the theatre release. After that you’re free to ‘break up’, though you will also need to sign a non-disclosure agreement which will stop you from talking about it for a few years. We’ll organise a few magazines and gossip sites to run stories about the split and, depending on how the public react to your story, may later run some _Ben and Y/N, back together question mark_ type pieces, entirely fabricated of course.”   
“You will attend the premiere together and, obviously, do press together. We will tell reporters not to ask about your personal lives, so no one suspects the relationship to be fake, though a few questions may _slip through_. Though we don’t expect this movie to earn any award nominations since it’s not being marketing for any there may be some later down the track. In that case we may ask you to extend your relationship long enough to attend the ceremonies together, provided you aren’t working on other projects at the time.”   
“The only other requirements are that, a few times a week you allow yourselves to be seen in public. Hand holding, kissing, really sell the whole fallen in love thing. That’s it really.”   
“And we can’t even tell our families?”   
“One leak is all it would take to have this revealed. You tell your mum who accidentally lets slip to the neighbour who sells it to a magazine. And if it’s revealed it could be harmful when it comes to box office numbers, which is the exact opposite of what we want. But enough of these have been done so that we know how to manage them, and all you have to do is keep quiet about it and act like you’re in love. Easy. Are you both on board?”   
Barry, who’d been quiet throughout the meeting, leaned forward expectantly.   
You already knew what to say, "I’m in if Ben is,”   
Ben chewed his lip as he skimmed over the paper in his hands again. He sighed and raised his eyes to where Barry sat, waiting.   
“I don’t know I-”   
You’d seen it coming, his answer. Really it wasn’t much of a surprise. Ben didn’t strike you as the sort of person to go in for schemes like this and he’d been hesitant from the second it was suggested. You heard him sigh again as his gaze landed on you and you wondered if he thought less of you for wanting to be part of it.   
“Okay. I’m in.”   
You were a little stunned by his change of heart but you were the only one. Everyone else in the room seemed relieved and a little frantic, Barry reaching back into his bag, Mary and Peter talking over each other to assure you both that you’d made the right choice.   
“Glad to hear that, Ben,” Barry was saying as he pulled out another folder of documents, “Now, we’ll need you to both to sign here.”

After shooting was done for the day you accompanied Ben to a small pub for a drink. Mary and Peter had left the meeting on their phones making hurried calls to get photos of the two of you leaving the set together. You’d jumped a little as Ben grabbed your hand before realising why his fingers were linked through your own. It was warm and he didn’t let you go until you reached the pub, the snap of cameras audible as you walked down the street. You found a booth while Ben headed to the bar, returning a little later with a drink in each hand.    
“One G and T for my girlfriend,” he laughed as he put the drink in front of you and slid into the seat opposite.   
“Y’know if you told me last week that I’d have had a boyfriend before we finished filming and that it was you, I would have laughed.”   
“God me too. Our jobs are so bizarre. Literally what other profession would encourage you to pretend to date?”   
You laughed and pulled out the papers you’d been given that morning, “And who’d have thought there’d be so many contractual requirements.”   
“We should add our own set of rules. Like just so we’re clear about what we’d be uncomfortable doing or whatever.”   
“Safewords?”   
“Get your mind out of the gutter. Christ, you fake ask a girl out and suddenly all she can think about is sex.”   
“My mind was in the gutter long before we were set up.”   
He let out a huff of laughter and shook his head, reaching for his glass.   
“I know what you mean though. We should definitely define some things,” you grabbed your bag and began digging through it for a pen. When you found it, you turned the papers over giving you a blank canvas to work on, “Firstly sex.”   
“Should have known,”   
“May as well start with the big one. _Rule 1: No Sex_. Completely off the table.” you took a sip of your drink as you began jotting it down.   
“Your wank game strong?”   
The conversation was interrupted as you choked on your drink, finally recovering enough to splutter, “excuse me?”   
“Well it sounds like we might be together for a while. Can’t go on any tinder dates or anything since that would look like cheating. You sure you can last that long?   
“100 per cent.”   
“Alright, if you’re sure. Rule one, no sex.”   
You finished writing it down, rolling your eyes, “What about PDAs? We have to do some but is there anything you’d be uncomfortable with?”   
“I’m not really one for like public make out sessions,”   
“Thank god, me neither.”   
“Okay, good. What about cuddling and that kind of thing. Man this is weird to talk about,”   
“Yeah, is a bit. I can do some cuddling in public but y'know, nothing too much. Hugs are fine, an arm around my shoulders is fine. Holding hands is obviously okay.”   
“What about an arm around the waist?”   
“Hmmm….maybe. Yeah, I think I’d be okay with that. But your hand never goes below my lower back. I will have no arse grabs or pinches or hands in my back pocket.”   
“Wasn’t planning on that but good to know. Does cuddling include lap sitting?”   
“Absolutely not.”   
“Okay, strong boundaries, I respect that. You going to write all that down?”   
“ _Rule 2: PDAs kept respectable and to a minimum_. And rule 3: _hands above the belt_ _at all times_. What about our families and friends?” you asked as you made notes on acceptable PDAs, “chances are we’re going to have to deal with them at some point since they’re going to think it’s real.”   
“Okay, um, how about…no meeting anyone unless there’s a reason like a family gathering you’d be expected to bring a partner to. And if that does come up we can work out a game plan then.”   
“Make sense. _Rule 4: No families unless no escape_.”

By the time you left the pub, your list of rules tucked into your bag, it was quite late.    
“Hey, you wanna crash at mine tonight?” Ben asked, “we can text Peter and Mary, let them know so they can organise paparazzi for the morning.”   
“Tonight? I don’t have a toothbrush or a change of clothes or anything.”   
“We’ll pop into a shop and buy you a new toothbrush, should probably get you one for my place anyway since apparently you’ll be staying over more than once. And I’m sure I’ve got something you can sleep in.”   
“And tomorrow? Can’t wear this again in case we get photographed.”   
“I’ll give you something and then I’ll drop you home in the morning,” he shrugged.    
“I guess that would work,”   
“C’mon, it’ll be like a sleepover. Stay up late and talk about boys, have things devolve into a sexy pillow fight, sleepover stuff.”   
“And you say my mind lives in the gutter.”   
“That’s not a no,”   
“Alright, I’ll crash at yours. Closer to here than mine is anyway.”   
“Awesome,” he grinned at you, “c’mon, this way….babe?”   
“Didn’t sound so convincing there, Ben,” you snorted.   
“You should have used a pet name then, instead of my actual one. And I was just testing the waters, what’d you think?”   
“Babe’s okay. As long as we don’t get into weirdly cutesie things like turtle dove or snookums.”   
“You _don’t_ want me to call you snookums? How about cuddle bunny? Pumpkin pie?”   
“Oh fuck off,”   
“Think you mean fuck off _honey_ _bear_.”   
“ _Rule 5: Standard pet names only!_ ”

As much as he clearly enjoyed teasing you, Ben made sure you had a good time with him. He took your hand again but it was only so he could pull you into the warmth of a small Chinese restaurant. It was one he seemed to regularly visit judging by the way the man at the counter knew Ben’s order straight away. He seemed a little surprised when Ben asked to add extra dishes, eyes darting to your entwined hands, and then back to Ben’s face, but he said nothing, just cheerily gave Ben the new price.   
“What was that about?” you asked as you walked the last block to Ben’s door, each of you carrying a bag, his full of food and yours supplies from the grocery store, “the look he gave you when he saw me?”   
“Oh, that’s nothing. I used to go to that place a lot with my ex and then we broke up and I kept going on my own cause it’s close and it’s fucking good food. But, um, they know me pretty well and I guess it’s been a while since I took a girl there.”   
“Well I’m flattered that you chose me to be part of this touching moment,” you laughed and followed Ben to his front door, taking the second bag from him so he could pull his keys from his pocket and let you in. You’d never been inside Ben’s place before so you let him lead you down the hallway towards the kitchen, taking charge of pulling everything from the bags as Ben got out plates and cutlery.   
“Oh shit, hang on gotta text Mary and Peter,”   
You took over dividing up the food as Ben dug his phone out of his pocket. A few seconds after he’d sent the message and put his phone down a ding made him snatch it back up again.   
“Peter says there’ll be someone here to snap us while we leave. They want us to kiss if possible. Guess it’s really started then,”   
“Guess so. Can I ask one thing?”   
“Sure,” he said it slowly, almost nervously.   
“Why’d you change your mind about this? I thought for sure you’d say no.”   
“Oh, that. I don’t know, I guess I figured it wouldn’t hurt, especially if it was going to benefit the movie. C’mon, don’t want this to go cold,”   
You weren't sure you believed him but you let him shrug off the question as you picked up your plate and followed him into the living room. The next couple of hours were spent eating and watching trashy reality tv shows, making jokes at their expense. You and Ben kept talking long after the show ended, until he realised how late it was getting.   
“Better turn in otherwise I won’t get up in the morning,” he laughed.   
“Yeah, probably a good plan,” you stretched out on the couch, placing a cushion under your head.   
“C’mon, I’ll show you to your room.”   
“You mean I’m not sleeping on the couch?”   
“Oh my god you’re a dork,” he threw another cushion at you, “I have a spare room you can use.”   
“Well I didn’t know that,” you laughed as you pushed yourself to your feet, following him back down the hallway towards a closed door you hadn’t noticed before.   
“Nah, you’re all good. It’s honestly mostly used by my friend Joe when he’s travelling over this way. There’re clean sheets in the linen press in the bathroom which is the next door on the right, and extra blankets in the cupboard just there. Also watch the blinds if you try to close them, they can be a little stiff. If there’s anything else you need let me know, my bedroom is at the end of the hall, near the living room.”   
“Some PJs would be good, if it’s no trouble.”   
“Oh right, yeah of course, give me a second.”   
You dropped your bag in a corner of the room and then popped into the bathroom to grab some sheets. Ben came back with an old t-shirt and some flannel pants.   
“These are mine so they’ll probably be a bit big but they’ll be fine for the night. And they’ll look good for the camera in the morning.”   
“Thanks,”   
“That everything?”   
“Think so, night Ben,”   
“Night, snookums.”   
“Rule five mister,”    
Ben just laughed, pulling your door shut behind him. 

Waking up in Ben’s spare room was mildly confusing. The bed faced a different direction than yours did, the blinds blocked out too much of the morning light, and the sheets felt different. But the previous night came back to you and then the reason you were staying at Ben’s did too. It made you too nervous to go back to sleep, too restless to stay there, so you got up and stumbled to the door, opening it just in time to see Ben leaving the bathroom.   
“Morning,” he groaned with half shut eyes and sleep mussed hair, “you want a coffee?”   
“Please. Thanks.”   
He yawned, acknowledging your answer with a nod and left the bathroom to you. When you were done you found him in the kitchen with a steaming mug of coffee in his hands and a second on the bench in front of him. You took it gratefully, letting the warm caffeine wake you up.”   
“Breakfast? I can offer you toast or cereal unless you wanna wait for pancakes to cook.”   
You shook your head, “Don’t normally eat breakfast,”   
Ben looked aghast, “You know breakfast’s important, right?”   
“Shhh, lemme wake up before you start lecturing me,”   
Ben smiled into his own mug, falling silent until you’d downed half your drink, “You good now? Alert?”   
“Close enough. Please don’t tell me about breakfast though.”   
“I wasn’t going to. There was another text from Peter this morning.”   
“What’d it say?”   
“Well, a photographer will be here around nine-ish ready for us, but they said he’ll stay for as long as we take.”   
“Okay.”   
“And, um, he was very careful in how he worded it, but they want us to look like we fucked. Also I told them I’d take you home so there may be someone waiting for us there too, he never got back to me on it.”   
“Shit, okay. Umm, guess I’ll just wear this then?” you indicated the pyjamas you’d borrowed, “might lose the pants though, help sell it a bit more.”   
“Yeah, guess so,” Ben cleared his throat and took a sip of coffee, his eyes firmly fixed over your shoulder.   
“What time is is?”   
“Uhhhh,” he glanced at the oven, “Twenty past eight.”   
“God I haven’t been up this early on a weekend in months.”   
“Not one for farmers markets or anything then?”   
“Not really. Much prefer lying in bed doing nothing.”   
“Me too,”   
“We’re meant for each other,” you laughed, “did you want to have a shower or anything?”   
“Nah, you can if you want though,”   
“Might as well wait until I get home. But I am gonna clean my teeth, especially if we have to kiss.”   
“Maybe mess up your hair too, make it look like you didn’t sleep much.”   
“Well how could I when you’re such a good lover,”   
“I know you’re joking but if anyone asks, I’m incredible. You came like three times.”   
“Did I now?”   
“Of course.”   
“Good thing no one’s gonna ask then, don’t think I’m great at lying.”   
“You’re an actress, Y/N. Besides, it’s not really a lie, I am that good. You just haven’t experienced it personally.”   
You poked your tongue out at Ben as you stood and headed towards the bathroom again but you did as he’d suggested and messed your hair up as much as you could.

“How do I look?” you ask Ben when you were done.   
“Gorgeous,” he said, eyes raking over every inch of your appearance from the ruffled hair to the hint of panda eyes you’d manufactured with your eyeshadow to the slightly unbuttoned flannel shirt and missing pants.   
“But do I look like I’ve been thoroughly fucked?”   
“Oh, right, umm, yes I think so,”   
“You do? I feel like theres something missing.” You darted back into the bathroom to look in the mirror again, “Oh! I know. Might be taking it a bit far though.”   
“What is it?” Ben asked, following you and watching you in the mirror.   
“What if you gave me a hickey?”   
“Y/N, I-”   
“Yeah, I know, that’s a weird thing to ask. Don’t worry, I think we’ll be fine without it.”   
Ben’s cheeks puffed up with air that he slowly let escape his lips, “no, you’re right, if I’d really slept with you last night I would have marked you up a bit. A hickey will definitely make it look more authentic.”   
“It’s not totally inappropriate for me to ask?”   
“No, no, we have to make it look legit, it’s a good suggestion. Here, I’ll uhh,” he stepped in close, one hand tentatively winding around your waist to pull you back against him, the other moving to push your hair aside. His breath was hot as he leaned into your neck. You saw him glance at your reflection, eyebrows slightly furrowed, but then his lips were on your skin, sucking at you until a bruise formed. Your own breath quickened with the contact but you knew it was just because he’d found a particularly sensitive spot and it had been a while since anyone had handled you like that. It was still just Ben and it was still part of your jobs. But all the same you let your eyes slip shut and hummed at how nice it felt. You were almost disappointed when it was over. Ben stood there for a moment, head bent over your neck, long enough to take a deep breath, but then he seemed to collect himself, taking a quick step back.   
“Will that do?”   
“It’s great Ben, really ties the whole look together.”   
Ben returned your smile but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, “Good. Good. Okay then, I’ll umm, what time is it?”   
“Just after nine,” you said, glancing at your phone, “wonder if the photographer is here yet.”   
“I think I will jump in for that shower actually, by the time I’m done he definitely will be.”   
“Okay,”   
“Make yourself comfortable though, watch some TV or something.”   
“Alright. Thanks for being so cool about all this. I know you’re a little sceptical about the benefits and everything.”   
“It’s fine, Y/N, no need for any of that.” He smiled again as you left the bathroom and the door shut behind you, but it still seemed off. 

You settled onto the couch to flick TV channels, pausing at a breakfast news show and then at some kids cartoon you didn’t recognise, only stopping when Ben entered the room, clean and dressed.    
“Hey, I was wondering,” you said, turning towards him, “should I give you a hickey as well?”   
“No,”   
You were a little taken aback by how quickly he’d answered.   
“I mean, I think that’d be overkill. Keep it up our sleeves for next time, yeah?”   
“Okay, yeah, sure,”   
“Is he there?”   
“I think so.”   
Ben walked towards the window and twitched the curtain aside just enough to peek out, “Yeah, looks like him. Big camera pointing at my front door.”   
“Okay,” your heart began to beat a little faster, “show time then,”   
“Show time.” Ben nodded as he turned back to you.   
“Do we have a plan? I kinda wish I had a script right about now,”   
Ben laughed a little and you thought he seemed more himself, “I think you should go out first so they can get a good clean shot and then I come out after, maybe with my hand on your back?”   
“Sounds good,”   
“Okay, umm, I’ll lock the door and when I turn around you kiss me and then I’ll open the passenger door for you and we’ll drive to your place.”   
“Don’t bother opening my door. I’m not big into that kind of gesture, plus I think if we were actually being caught by the paparazzi, we’d be getting into the car as quick as possible. Maybe throw a look his way like you aren’t happy about being photographed just so it doesn’t seem too staged.”   
“Okay, no opening doors, noted.”   
You shrugged, “I just think it’s a bit old fashioned and unnecessary,”   
“I’ll keep that in mind for our dates. You ready to do this?”   
You nodded and stood up, leading the way to the front door. Ben collected his keys and wallet and placed a hand on the lower part of your back, your signal to open the door and step outside.    
“Kinda wish I had pants on,” you said softly, “It’s a bit brisk,”   
Ben chuckled as he followed you out, “We’ll put the heating on in the car for you,” he turned to lock the door. You watched him, fingers gripping the key a little tighter than he perhaps normally would, and as soon as he began to turn back around you were moving towards him, one hand thrown around his neck, the other in his hair as your pressed your lips to his. His hand found your back again, pulling you in close as he kissed you back fiercely, as if he were unwilling to let you go after such a good night together, the kiss of a man falling in love. For half a second you forgot it was an act. And then he was gone, his nose brushing yours briefly before there was space between you. You felt a little dazed with Ben looking at you so softly but you took a deep breath and reality came back to you. With another breath your turned and headed towards the car, able to hear the rapid _click_ _click_ _click_ of the camera. You shot a look towards the noise and then got into the car, Ben hopping into the driver’s seat about a second later. 

“You’re a good actor,” you said before silence could settle between you, “I already knew that, of course, but the kiss was really good. Almost completely believable.”   
“As long as it’s believable enough in the photos,”   
“I’m sure it will be. I think we pulled it off.”   
Ben nodded, “Yeah. You still chilly?”   
“Little bit,”   
He reached over and twisted one of the dials blindly, warm air suddenly washing over your goosebump covered legs, “better?”   
“So much, thanks.”   
“I think he might be following us,”   
“You did tell them we were going to mine, s’pose he’ll be trying to grab a couple of shots of us there.”   
“Yeah, probably.”   
“Should we come up with another game plan? Maybe you walk me to my door, we stand there talking for a bit, saying goodbye. I stay and watch you leave before I go inside.”   
“Perfect. Is another kiss part of the goodbye?”   
“Careful Ben, you sound almost like you want to kiss me,” you laughed, “but yes, think it needs to be.”

It went completely according to plan. By the time you were getting out of the car the photographer had pulled up outside your house, his camera sticking out the window of his car so he didn’t miss his shot. The camera clicked as Ben took your hand and you led him to your door.   
“Well, guess that’s it for today. I did have fun with you last night, even if it wasn’t the kind of fun everyone else will think it was.”   
“Yeah, me too. Happy to have you stay anytime you want to be photographed again. Maybe we’ll get you some PJs that can live at minethough.”   
“Probably for the best. If this goes well I can see them wanting us to do it again soon.”   
“Oh definitely. They’ll probably have notes for us so we can get an even better performance next time. You ready to wow them with another kiss?”   
“Lay it on me, babe,”   
“Anything you want, snookums,”   
You groaned but before you could protest too much Ben was kissing you again, softer than before, no longer trying to convince you to stay, just trying to prolong the moment before the goodbye. It left you a little breathless as he cupped your cheek, leaving his hand there when he pulled away. As you opened your eyes you saw him bite his lip and then he leaned in to leave you with a final chaste peck before his fingers slipped from your skin and he was walking away. You let out a long exhale as you watched him go, waving as the car took off.Once you were alone inside, the door firmly shut behind you, you laughed at how ridiculous the whole arrangement was. But at least Ben was a good kisser. Not too firm, not too wet, just the right amount of tongue.Believable enough to give you butterflies. 


	2. One Small Hitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Ben have your first official date and settle into your "relationship". But, with filming coming to a close, you'll need to be more committed to the act than before, especially when Ben's keeping secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 is finally here! Sorry for the delay but hopefully the next part will be up faster. I'm really really enjoying writing this series and I am so very excited about what's coming!
> 
> Can anyone work out the theme of the chapter titles?

“I’ve got something for you,” you half shouted at Ben when you saw him walking towards you from across the field you were filming in. You shuffled your shitty takeaway coffee into your other hand so you could reach into your bag, pulling out a piece of paper folded in half. He took it and pulled you into a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.   
“Funny cause I have something for you too,” Ben said as he let you go, reaching into his backpack and handing you a magazine, “Oh, shit, it’s our rules. You want page 15 by the way.”   
“Figured you’d want a record of them. What exactly am I looking f-” you let the word hang as you found the right page. It was decorated with a photo of you and Ben kissing on his doorstep, his hand around your back, the shirt you’d borrowed riding up just enough that it was clear you didn’t have shorts on underneath as you clutched at him. There was some text beside it, mentions of your most notable roles and his, a brief description of the movie you were in the process of making, and some speculatory remarks with a couple of innuendos thrown in. The usual gossip mag fare. On the other side of the paragraph was another photo, both of you leaving set the previous Friday, hand in hand and smiling.   
“We look pretty good together,” you laughed, getting only a noncommittal grunt in return. He’d suddenly become very interested in the sheet you’d handed him, staring at it like he hadn’t been there when it was written. You reread the brief article, trying not to gawk at the photographs. It certainly looked believable.    
“I’ve had about four people wish us well this morning,” Ben suddenly said, seemingly pulling himself together, folding up the rules and shoving them into his back pocket, “and I’ve not been here long. It’s kinda weird having everyone know we’re together. Or think we’re together,” he quickly corrected himself.   
“Yeah, Mel kept asking me questions about it while she was doing my makeup this morning, so I hope she took my awkwardness as me wanting to keep things private and not me not knowing how to answer some of them.”   
Ben chuckled, “yeah, Gail gave me a bit of a grilling too. I just told her we’d been sort of seeing each other for a few weeks and had only just like made it official or whatever and she seemed to buy it.”   
“Good, I told Mel the same sort of thing. Hopefully that’s enough for them.”   
“I’m more concerned with what my friends are going to say. I don’t think any of them read _Heat_ though so hopefully it doesn’t come up any time soon,”   
“Lucky. My friend Felicity has the dumb site bookmarked. Checks it religiously. Bloody miracle she hasn’t called yet.”   
“Better turn of your phone then,”   
“And come back to a full voicemail and about a hundred texts demanding to know why I’m ghosting her?”   
“Tell her you were filming. I do it all the time,” he was grinning at you and you couldn’t help but grin back as you pulled your phone out and shut it off, “atta girl,” he pulled you into his side and gave you an affectionate squeeze that you leaned into , fully aware of how many people were around you, potentially watching. It was a feeling that didn’t really let up. You knew, rationally, that everyone there was focused on their jobs, but you couldn’t help feeling like you were constantly being scrutinised, and not just for your acting. It didn’t help when Seth had to stop recording to fix a problem with the boom mic and, good-humouredly, said, “don’t worry lovebirds, we’ll have her running in a second.” Or that one of the ADs delivered your call sheets for the next day with a, “I always thought you’d be cute together.” And it certainly didn’t help when you turned your phone on at the end of the day to find a series of texts from Felicity each with more exclamation points and capital letters than the last, and a missed call from Mary.    
“Better call her back,” Ben said, following you towards the carpark.   
You rolled your eyes, already holding the phone up to your ear listening to it ring.   
“Y/N, I was just about to try you again,”   
“Sorry, Mary, I had my phone off while we were recording, what’s the matter?”   
“Are you free this weekend?”   
“Um yeah, I think so, why?”   
“We’d like for you and Ben to go on a date this weekend. Somewhere in London preferably but it’s up to you. You saw the article in _Heat_? It seems to be going well. The hits your names have got on google have increased and there have been a few tweets about it. Nothing huge, you’re not trending or anything but you’re still relatively unknown so we weren’t expecting that to happen, certainly not overnight. But we think if we get a date story out quickly it’ll really help get people interested.”   
You rubbed your temple as you tried to process everything she’d just said, “Okay, I’ll talk to him and we’ll organise something. I’ll text you the details once I have them.”   
“Okay, let me know as soon as you can though. And send Peter the info too.”   
“Will do. See ya Mary.”   
“Was that about me?” Ben asked, smiling as he leaned against your car.   
“You up for a date this weekend? Apparently the first story went well and they want a follow up ASAP.”   
“Sure, where are we going?”   
“I don’t know, somewhere around London would apparently be best, but we get to choose. Any thoughts?”   
He thought for a moment, “This isn’t our first date is it? Like, we’ve said we’ve been on others before, right?”   
“Yeah, why?”   
“Well normally for a first date I take girls out for dinner and then, depending on the girl and how the dinner went, either a quiet drink or like a romantic as fuck walk in the park or something.”   
“That’s pretty standard stuff, Ben,”   
“Yeah, but in the fiction of us as a couple, this isn’t our first date. This’d be, what?”   
“Fifth maybe?”   
“Fifth. So I’m still trying to impress you a bit, but it’s like, more relaxed. We’ve done the dinner date, we’ve done coffee and a movie, we’ve even done the Museum. Now we’re getting into the fun shit.”   
“Museums don’t count as fun shit?” you chuckled, not sure where his train of thought was taking you.   
“It’s a bit overdone is all.”   
“What do you have in mind then?”   
“There’s this place that runs art classes during the day, right? Life drawing or like painting for beginner's type stuff. But a couple of nights a week they run these art and wine nights. They’ll give you a canvas or a ceramic figure or something like that and some paints and you can have a few drinks and do something arty. I did it with some mates a while ago, had heaps of fun. Seemed like the sort of thing yo\- a girl might like to do on a date.”   
“That definitely sound fun.”   
“Really? You’re into it?”   
“Yeah, for sure.”   
“Okay,” Ben pulled out his phone and began typing, “shall I book us in for the Saturday night ceramics session?”   
“Go ahead. What time was that, so I can let Mary and Peter know.”   
“Seven thirty. If we get a cab in a little earlier we can grab something to eat on our way.”   
“Cool, okay I’ll text them. Is it BYO?”   
“Yeah. They do sell some stuff but it’s a pretty small selection.”   
“Okay, well that’s something to look forward to. Anyway, I should be going since I have about a million texts to sort through, I’ll see you tomorrow.”   
“Wait, one thing,” Ben said before you could open your car door, “There’s a few people coming off set now so I’m going to kiss you, okay?”   
“Thanks for the heads up,”   
“No worries,” he stepped closer, his hand rising to cup your cheek as he kissed you softly. He took longer to break away than you’d expected, letting the kiss deepen instead, but you didn’t mind too much. It was a good kiss. And if it hadn’t been for Ben and the movie, you would have been severely lacking them recently. Which explained the vague feeling of disappointment that hit you when he did step back. 

On your way home your phone beeped with another text from Felicity but you ignored it until you were inside and changed into the comfiest clothes you could find, flopping down on your bed to scroll through what she’d written. They varied from, “omg why didn’t you tell me about this Ben guy?” to “Y/N!!! Answer my texts!!!” all the way up to, “BITCH!!! CALL ME!!!!”    
She picked up on the first ring.    
“Where the fuck have you been all day?”   
“Some of us don’t have office jobs we hate,” you laughed, “I actually had to work, funnily enough, and because we were on location I had to keep my phone off while we recorded.”   
“Well I’ve been going crazy over here. Imagine my shock when I boot up my computer and open _Heat_ and see your fucking arse being grabbed by your co-star.”   
“He was not grabbing my arse.”   
“Close enough. You didn’t tell me how fucking gorgeous he is.”   
“No, well, I don’t usually think about the people I work with like that, do I?”   
“Which is why I was so surprised to see you’ve shacked up with one of them.”   
“It’s not quite that serious.”   
“One night stands aren’t your usual thing. Definitely not with guys you work with anyway.”   
“I never said it was a one night stand, just that it wasn’t super serious!”   
“How many times then?”   
“We’ve been on like four dates.”   
“You fuckhead! You mean to tell me you’re actually dating this guy, who by the way looks like he could be a fucking underwear model, and you didn’t think to tell me? No so much as a _I got_ _dicked_ _down by a total babe aren’t_ _you_ _jealous_ message?”   
“I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it if it wasn’t going to go anywhere.”   
“But still, I’m your best friend, I tell you about every shag I have.”   
“In graphic detail,”   
“Exactly.”   
“Look it’s just a bit weird still. Neither of us have really hooked up with a co-star before and we didn’t want to say anything until we worked out what was happening.”   
“I guess that makes sense,” you could tell she didn’t mean it, “But, now that it’s out you owe me. I want to hear all about it.”   
“There’s not much to tell. We became quite good friends during all the pre-production stuff when we were rehearsing and all that. Our director wanted to make sure we clicked and had the right chemistry and stuff, since it’s a romcom and our characters get engaged in the first scene, so we hung out a lot. And then just before filming started he asked me out. Took me to this nice Chinese restaurant. It was fun so we agreed to go out again and it’s sort of just kept going.”   
“Those photos, was that the first time you’d stayed over at his?”   
“Second. First time was a couple of weeks ago. The night that led to the photos was just a few drinks after work with some of the others and we ended up ducking out a bit early and wound up at his.”   
“And?”    
“And what?” You had a hard time not laughing when you heard her groan. Her eagerness to know every sordid detail made her easy to fuck with, and that made the whole business of being secretive a lot more fun.   
“And, how was he?”   
“I mean…y’know,”   
“Y/N, I swear to god,”   
“He was good, okay? Really good,” you remembered what Ben had told you to say, trying not to laugh too much while you repeated it, “like, three orgasms good.”   
“Shit, really?”   
“Uhuh. And then another in the morning.”   
Felicity replied with a long whistle, “shit, girl, hold onto that one then. That’s definitely worth any trouble working together could cause."   
“Believe me, I know. We’re going out again this weekend.” It was surprisingly easy to lie about dating Ben. Though, of course, you weren’t technically lying since you would be going on a date.    
“Shit man, date five. That’s serious shit. You better tell me everything, in graphic detail.”

When you told Ben about the conversation the next day, admitting you’d spent ages praising his sexual prowess, he laughed and then thanked you, pulling you into a tight bear hug. You thought it was a slight overreaction considering he’d been the one to tell you what to say but his happiness was infectious, and you found yourself smiling more than normal as you hung out between scenes. An attitude which could only help your performance, making people more ready to believe you were a couple. His easy laughter and bright smiles continued until the afternoon when you were telling him more about Felicity and what you’d talked about.    
“She thinks you’re a keeper and kept telling me not to let you go.”   
“Your friend knows what she’s talking about.”   
“Lucky for you I can’t let you go since it’s all written up in a contract,”   
Ben laughed but when you glanced at him his smile seemed to falter.    
“You okay?”   
“Brilliant. Just had a bit of a late night and it’s catching up on me. Think I might try to have a quick nap before we’re needed again.”   
“I was thinking of grabbing another coffee if you want one?”   
“Thanks Y/N but I think the nap will do me more good.”   
“Probably better people don’t see us heading off to a trailer together anyway or they’ll suspect we’re getting up to mischief.”   
“Very true. I’ll see you a bit later.”   
“Sleep well!”   
Ben turned to leave, his smile seeming more forced than earlier. You would have worried except he seemed to be back to normal when he was called for your next scene. And it continued on through the week, his happiness only getting more pronounced the closer it got to the weekend. 

You couldn’t quite match his energy on Friday, anxiety over your date getting stronger the closer you got to it. Hanging out at his place had been easy, even if it did include leaving half dressed. All you’d had to do was kiss him which you’d done enough times during filming that it was no longer too odd. But a proper date was something else. It was going to be the first real test you faced, the first time you’d really have to sell yourselves to the public as more than co-stars and more than a hook-up.   
“Hey are you okay?”   
“Huh?”   
“Your jiggling your leg a lot which you only do when something’s worrying you, what is it?”   
“Oh,” you forced your leg to stop moving, “nothing,”   
“Is it about our date tonight?”   
“What if it’s bad? What if we don’t look like we’re actually together and Mary and Pete have to cancel the whole thing?”   
“I’d get a decent night sleep not thinking about us,” he muttered.   
“What?”   
“I’ve been worried about it too,” he said louder, “but I think we’ll be okay. It’s not like we’ll be starved for conversation and we’ll have the paint and the wine and we’ll be fine. Plus, weren’t you the one who said this would be easy?”   
“Yeah I was,” you said sheepishly, “but -”   
“No buts. It’ll be a piece of cake. We go and have a good time painting a couple of plates or bowls or whatever, and then hold hands while we head home. They’ll get whatever shots they get, and they’ll spin it so we look like a couple.”   
“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry,”   
“It’s okay,” he reached out to rub the back of your hand, smiling softly at you, “the nerves might actually help you look like you’re legit. And worst comes to worst we can always run lines. I’m honestly so much more nervous about shooting that scene tomorrow.”   
“The one where we’re playing matchmaker?”   
“Yes! Have you seen how many names are in there?”   
“Theres like six, Ben,”   
“Yeah but they’re all repeated, and I know I’m going to get the order wrong,”   
You giggled and shook your head, “You’re unbelievable,”   
“Oh whatever,” he pushed your shoulder almost making you overbalance, “Just cos you know the lines already.”

Ben’s efforts to calm you down worked and you got through the rest of the workday without a hitch. Though your stomach was once again tight with nerves in the hours before the date. You spent a solid half hour standing in front of your wardrobe, freshly washed hair slowly dripping down the back of the towel you had wrapped around you, trying to settle on what to wear. When you were finally dressed you checked and rechecked the contents of your purse, and, in a moment of panic, you grabbed the heavily highlighted and notated script pages with the matchmaker scene and shoved them in beside your lipstick and bank card. By the time Ben arrived in an Uber to pick you up, ushering you into the backseat with a kiss on the cheek and a complement about how lovely you looked, you felt like you were on the verge of throwing up. But, once again, Ben’s natural charm eased your mind. The way he talked to you and smiled constantly had your heart rate slowing and your stomach settling within minutes. Even the way he squeezed your hand when he helped you out of the car, and the way he laced his fingers with yours as he led you towards your destination were welcome comforts.   
“D’youwanna grab something to eat?” Ben asked, stopping on a corner and looking around, annoyed people passing by on both sides.   
“Uhh, s’pose so.”   
“Has anyone ever told you you’re indecisive?”   
“I swear I’m not normally.”   
“Oh? Do I make you nervous, snookum?” he asked, playfully.   
“No, you git,” you laughed back, though you found it hard to meet his eyes, “I just don’t know I’m that hungry.”   
“Well, keep in mind there’ll be wine drinking. Don’t want to do that on an empty stomach.”   
“Valid argument. What’s nearby?”   
After some wandering you ended up in a McDonalds, Ben wolfing down a burger while you picked at the fries, not quite certain you’d be able to keep your food down. It was when you were coming out of a bottle shop, Ben holding the wine you’d agreed on, that you spotted the photographer. It was the same one who’d been outside Ben’s house when you stayed over, camera aimed at the two of you. Quietly you nudged Ben. He just wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into his side as you walked. You struggled to not watch the photographer as he followed you towards the art studio, having to keep reminding yourself to pretend he wasn’t there.   
“Relax,” Ben said softly in your ear, “He’s not important.”   
You nodded, afraid if you said anything you’d lose the meagre dinner you’d had. Ben’s thumb rubbing over your own gave you something else to focus on, counting each soft, smooth stroke, until you reached the right place. 

You weren’t the only couple there, far from it. Most of the claimed tables were taken by pairs sitting close together, hands clasped or laying on thighs as they talked. A few tables held larger groups, double dates maybe or perhaps just friends. You felt a few eyes on you as you found a table close to the clear glass of the shopfront, but they turned away again quickly, more interested in their own little bubbles than yours. You glanced outside to check if the photographer was still there but couldn’t see much more than the reflection of you and Ben. His knee bumped yours under the table as he leaned toward you, pressing a finger to your jaw to turn your head towards him.   
“Forget the photographer. Forget Mary and Peter. Forget our arrangement. We're just two friends having a fun night out, okay?”   
“Okay,”    
“Okay. So what are you thinking of painting then?” He unscrewed the bottle of wine and grabbed one of the glasses you’d been handed on arrival.    
“Well what are my options?”   
“Well there’s your classic teacup, mug or plate options. There’s a couple of different jewellery boxes, I think. And then there are the statues, ummm, fairy, dragon, alien. Maybe a princess one, I can’t remember.”   
“More than I thought there’d be. What were you thinking?”   
“I did a dragon last time I was here. But I think I’m going to do a mug this time. Need some extras if you’re gonna be staying over more often.”   
“Maybe we should both do mugs, then? Something we can use at each other’s places.”   
“Alright, deal. But we can’t look at what the other is painting until they’re done.”   
“That’s going to be so hard!” you laughed, feeling properly relaxed for the first time all night.   
“Yeah but it’ll be fun though. Wait here, I’ll go grab us the mugs.”   
You took the opportunity to look around the room, trying to think of what Ben might like on a mug. There was art everywhere – paintings hanging on walls, examples of what the classes could teach you, decorated ceramics lining windowsills and shelves. Judging by the wildly differing levels of talent displayed, you assumed at least some of them were left behind and never claimed. There were plates decorated with fruit trees and ocean scenes, jugs covered in splatters of different colours, aliens in shimmery blue and princesses with green hair and orange dresses. But nothing that sparked your imagination. The noise of the room was steadily growing as everyone got stuck into their creations. Ben sat down, took a drink and got to work mixing colours.   
“You know what you’re going to do then?”   
“I have an idea. But I will warn you I’m not a particularly good artist so it might not look anything like what it’s meant to.”   
You picked up your blank mug and put it down again, tapping the end of a paintbrush against the table as you tried to come up with an idea. What did Ben like? He liked coffee. And dogs. And his guitar. More than once he’d brought it to set, playing it in his downtime. He’d been embarrassed the first time you mentioned overhearing him as you passed by his trailer, but you’d assured him you’d liked listening to him. You’d had the song stuck in your head for a week afterwards.    
“Made up your mind, have you?” Ben asked, glancing up from his handiwork as you mixed a pale peach colour.   
“No peeking,”   
“I wasn’t peeking. If I’d been peeking, I would have done this,” Ben craned his neck, leaning over to where your mug was.    
You laughed and pulled the mug closer to you, pushing him away with your other hand.   
He caught it in his own, taking the paintbrush from you, “Oi, careful with that.”   
“Oops, sorry,”   
Ben laughed and kissed your palm before letting you have your hand back, “No harm done. But y’know if you splattered me I’d have no choice but to get payback.”   
There was no need to reach for the script you’d brought as you and Ben fell into conversation while you painted. He asked if you’d had any more awkward phone calls with your friends and told you about what had happened when his mates had found out. Nothing like the conversation you’d endured, though there’d been plenty of teasing. You had to admonish him for nearly getting paint on your work when he began using the largest brush he had to artistically spray drops of paint over his mug. And then he’d laughed when you paused, admitting out loud that you weren’t actually sure how to paint the thing you’d planned on painting. He’d promised not to peek while you whipped out your phone to look up a reference image, going to far as to cover his eyes just to make sure. Once you gave him the okay he went back to painting, switching to a thinner brush and shushing you so he could concentrate. It was ridiculous how cute he looked, tongue between his teeth, bent over the mug as he slowly outlined the design. You shook your head to clear the thought and went back to your own work.

“Okay, I’m done. You wanna see now?”   
“Yes, absolutely. Unless you think we should wait until after they’ve been glazed?”   
“Fuck that, we can’t pick them up for a couple of days, I wanna show you now.”   
“Alright, show me then,” you put down your brush, focusing all your attention onto the mug in Ben’s hands. The base coat was a light purple, with splatters of darker purple over top. Slowly he turned the mug to show you the design on the front. It bore a slightly wonky engagement ring, similar to the one his character gave yours in the movie. On either side of the ring, in thin, not quite straight lettering, was the words _we’re_ _really good_ _at this dating thing_.    
You smiled as soon as you read the quote from the script, “I love it, Ben”   
“Thought it was kind of fitting,” he chuckled, “plus it’ll be a nice little souvenir once the movie wraps.”   
“That was a fun scene to shoot. Best proposal I’ve ever had.”   
Ben smiled and carefully turned his mug back towards him, “Best proposal I’ve ever given,” He seemed to be about to say something but stopped himself, shaking his head.   
You lowered your voice, “Promise I’ll get to keep it after we break up?”   
“Promise,” Ben said, matching your level and leaning in close, “Until then maybe you can use it as a reminder whenever you feel anxious about this whole dating thing.”   
“Thanks, I will.”    
You were suddenly very aware of how softly you were speaking, how close you were sitting, leaning in to hear each other over the rest of the room, and for a split second you thought he was going to kiss you again. But then the moment passed, the noise of the room intruding as Ben leaned back in his seat, “So do I get to see mine?”   
“Uh, it’s not quite done,” you said, picking up your brush again, the moment gone, “give me another couple of minutes.”   
“Masterpieces take time, I get it,”   
“This is by no stretch a masterpiece,”   
“I’ll be the judge of that thanks very much,”   
Ben turned to look out over the room while you tried to finish your painting without smudging anything, occasionally making comments about other people there or the art that decorated the room.   
You took one last look at what you’d painted, the guitar with the words stun _gun lullaby_ written in cursive beside it, “Alright, I’m done now, you can look. Careful, some of it’s still wet.”   
Ben gently took hold of the handle and turned the mug so the design faced him. He broke out into a grin and you felt relieved that he liked it.    
“It’s definitely a masterpiece. For someone who didn’t know how to draw a guitar you’ve done an incredible job. And how did you know that’s one of my favourite songs?”   
“Is it? It's just the song I overheard you playing that one time. I thought that line was a good one for a mug. Nice and short so I didn’t have to paint too much.”   
“This is definitely my new favourite mug.”   
“Oh stop it.”   
“And hey, they kind of match.”   
You laughed when he pointed out the similarities, “Guess they do. Y’know that’d make a pretty cute Instagram post.”   
“You going to tag me as my mug?”   
“Of course. You could post a photo and tag me in it too,”   
“I don’t know. I don’t really post much personal stuff online.”   
“Well at least comment on mine,”   
“I can do that.” 

After you’d taken a decent photo and posted it online you cleaned up, handed your mugs over to the woman running the night’s activity and stepped back out into the night. There was no sign of the photographer anywhere and you supposed he’d got what he needed and then left.    
Still, Ben grabbed your hand as you walked back up the street, just in case you’d missed the photographer in the crowd.    
“Guess that means we don’t have to worry about going home together,” you said, nudging Ben.   
“Guess not,” his lips quirked down in a soft frown.”   
“What is it?”   
“Nothing, nothing, just...feels kind of weird to just end the date here, I guess,” he scratched the back of his head and laughed, “Normally I’d offer to give you a lift home. Or at least give you a good night kiss, but I guess that’s not really needed now.”   
“Well, it’s like you said, we’re just friends having a fun night out. We could share a ride home though, if you wanted. You live near enough to mine it wouldn’t matter.”   
“Nah, don’t worry about it. I actually might go grab something to eat, don’t think that burger was quite enough. See you on Monday?”   
“Oh, yeah, okay, see you Monday.”    
There was a pause, both of you hesitating and then Ben gave you a much too quick hug before he walked off, disappearing into the crowd. You sighed and hailed a passing cab, spending the whole ride home wondering what the hell had just happened. But you pushed it from your mind once you were home, going through your usual nightly routine and very deliberately thinking of anything other than Ben. It didn’t help much. You still dreamt about him. Dreamt about the goodnight kiss you’d missed out on. 

When you woke you had to laugh at  yourself. You were sure that, had you binged a few episodes of a tv show or read something before you’d gone to bed you would have dreamt about it instead. Brains were suggestable like that. When you felt awake enough you rolled over and grabbed your phone finding a text from Ben and one from Felicity and an email from Mary. You opened Mary’s first, skimming over it and vowing to look at it properly once you had a coffee in your system. Ben’s was much easier to understand, a short message to say he had fun last night and that he’d pick the mugs up on his way to work on Monday. Felicity’s was just a series of question marks. You sent back a short response saying the date had been a lot of fun. It wasn’t enough and she was bound to come back at you asking for more details, but it would have to satisfy her. Slowly you got out of bed and made yourself a coffee, setting your laptop up next to you at the kitchen counter so you could try to read Mary’s email again. There was some information about some scripts she was going to send you, a couple of potential future roles, but  the majority of the email was about you and Ben. She’d already seen the photos, apparently, and some of them would be run in the coming week’s magazine while others were being put online. She’d also seen the Instagram post and commended you for thinking of it. Another date would have to be organised, but it was better to wait until the next weekend or even the one after, so as not to fatigue the public. 

So you and Ben fell into the routine of it. An email from one or other of your agents sometimes as vague as just telling you to organise a date, sometimes much more specific in what they wanted you to be doing, then the date itself, and in between work where you played up the romance as much as possible. You got good at pretending to stay over at each other's places, often just hanging out watching TV or running lines until the photographer called it a night and you were free to leave. Once or twice you’d opted to sleep in your own bed but get up early and head over to Ben’s for the required morning after shots but that process got old very quickly so you ended up actually staying over more and more. There was one day when your period came unexpectedly while you were at Ben’s. You were halfway through asking him to take you home when he offered to run to the store for you instead.   
“No, no, you don’t have to go out of your way like that, I’ve got plenty at home I just didn’t think I’d need any today.”   
“Y/N, I promise, it’s no trouble. I feel bad I don’t have anything here for you already. Been a while since I’ve lived with a girl and it didn’t even cross my mind. Seriously, it’ll take me two minutes.” When you still weren’t convinced he continued, “Plus, if I go we won’t ruin Peter and Mary’s plan for today. And the Paps can get a shot of me staring at boxes of tampons like a good caring boyfriend. It’ll help our image.”   
“Oh alright, as long as you don’t mind.”   
He was out the door a second later and back within ten minutes, though you did get a call from him at the shop, asking what brand you preferred. Once he was home, he made you a cup of tea, gave you a painkiller and, after checking you didn’t mind, cuddled up with you on the couch, teasingly calling you his cuddle bunny as he pulled you back against his chest. You almost complained, almost cited Rule 5, but it wasn’t so bad. Some might even go so far as to call it cute. It was better than snookum at any rate. 

The dates themselves got easier after the first. You knew what to expect now so it wasn’t as nerve wracking as before. And Ben was always fun to be around, your list of inside jokes steadily growing as he became the one person you spent the most time with. You let yourselves relax a bit. On your third date Ben’s arm stayed glued around your waist as you walked around the zoo, only losing contact when a lemur jumped on his shoulder and you stepped back to take a photo. It wasn’t low enough to violate the rules you’d put in place but his hand was dangerously close to falling below your belt, and it was definitely something you would have put a stop to when you first started the charade. The Instagram posts had got more frequent too, though Ben still refused to post anything to his own profile. But he commented on everything you posted whether it involved him or not. And people were buying it. You’d been moved from page 15 to page 13 and then to page 10 in the magazines. You both picked up more followers online as your photos were shared across Twitter and Facebook and Tumblr. There were some downsides like rude comments and nasty messages but mostly they were easy to ignore. Worse were the phone calls and messages from family members and friends asking when they’d get to meet Ben. He’d had to fend off his own family as well, but you both stuck to Rule 4, making up excuses and promising it would happen eventually, but it just wasn’t possible right now. But your biggest problem was the issue of intimacy. It wasn’t the lack of sex itself, that was easily managed. It was that Ben had started to intrude on your fantasies. You’d be there with your fingers or your toys and suddenly it was Ben’s voice you were thinking of, Ben’s hands, Ben’s teeth and tongue and chest. Ben’s name falling from your lips. And you knew it was just because you were pretending to date him, on and off set. It was the dumb suggestable brain thing again. The thoughts were only there because you were pretending to be in love with him and usually sex was tied up with love or at least relationships. And really, you hadn’t been attracted to anyone much lately because you hadn’t been looking because you’d been pretending to be attracted to Ben so it’s really no wonder you’re brain got all confused and mixed him into those other thoughts. The first time you saw him after it first happened you wondered if he could tell, a slightly flustered awkwardness hanging over you. But it wasn’t worth mentioning to anyone. You just vowed to push him out of your mind as much as you could. 

Nearly two months later you found yourselves back in the office where the idea of pretending to date was first floated. With filming drawing to a close Mary and Peter were keen to check in with you. The first thing either of them said when you and Ben turned up is how well the story was going.   
“Projections have the sales for this movie increased by five percent, just because of your relationship and that number is expected to grow as we get closer to release,” Mary spoke fast though whether that was excitement at the boosted numbers or just a busy schedule rushing her along you weren’t sure.   
“What happens now?” Ben asked, “I mean, since we won’t be filming together anymore after this week,”   
“That’s exactly why we wanted to talk with you both today,” Peter opened a pocket notebook and thumbed through a couple of pages, “so not much will change but we may occasionally need to balance out the loss of on set photos with shots of you out and about together. Nothing stressful and all very easily staged. You probably wouldn’t even need to be out for more than an hour or so at a time. People have been loving the domestic sort of photos you’ve been putting online, Y/N, that one of you using the coffee mugs you painted was especially good. So we’d like a few more of those sorts of moments. The two of you grocery shopping or walking a dog, do either of you have a dog? No? Hmmm, we could hire a dog and write a story about you sitting for a friend. We’ll put a pin in that for now. But yes, just some candid shots of you walking around London and doing regular everyday things together.”   
“We’ll also need to schedule the argument soon. We’re thinking somewhere within the first two weeks of filming being over. It means we can run speculation about whether the relationship is on the rocks now that you aren’t working together anymore. We’ll see how things go this week and make some decisions later, but we’ll give you plenty of warning before you have to perform it. Obviously, it has to be scheduled so we can guarantee someone will get photos but we need it to seem as natual as possible so we’ll leave the specifics of the argument up to you.”   
You nodded along but Ben had more questions.   
“What does this mean for any jobs we might be looking at taking after this movie wraps?”   
“You can still take on whatever roles you want provided they’re filming here. It’s harder to keep you in the public eye if you’re separated and while the drama of a long-distance relationship might be interesting at first, it’s not sustainable.”   
“If it was filming somewhere else in the UK we could maybe organise something. We’d have to look into it and see if it was possible to stick to our same plan but just shift the location. Maybe have a weekend visit angle to it, Y/N flies out to see Ben, Ben comes home to see Y/N, that kind of thing.”   
“Leave it with us Ben and we’ll get back to you on the logistics of it all.”   
“Oh, that’s okay, I don’t have anything set in stone, I was just curious.”   
“Is there anything else you have questions about?”   
“No, I don’t think so,” He looked towards you.   
“No, I’m all good.”   
“Okay, well, if you think of anything you can message us any time.”   
“Really, though, this is going very well. It’s already paying off but we need to keep the momentum during the post-production phase, so we need you both to be committed to this.”   
“We are.”   
“Unbelievably committed,” Ben added.

You and Ben left the meeting joking about potential arguments you could have and for the rest of the day, whenever you passed each other in the halls or had a moment alone you’d try to one up each other's suggestions. It was a good way to keep your spirits up even though the end of filming was fast approaching. One by one each cast member recorded their last scenes, saying an emotional thank you to the crew when the director called cut. You and Ben were the last to finish since you were the leads. A small pillow talk scene that you could do in your sleep. It was a nice way to end it, lying in bed with Ben’s arms around you, even with the heat of the studio lights. While you were waiting for the cameras to be positioned you and Ben joked around with the crew that were flitting around angling mics and adjusting set decorations.    
“Hey, Seth,” Ben said suddenly, “can you pass me my phone. I think we need to document this moment. What d’you say, cuddle bunny?”   
You laughed and poked him in the side but agreed. Ben stuck his arm straight up into the air, trying to angle the camera just right but he couldn’t quite get the photo to take without blurring. Seth took pity on you and offered to take the photo himself, allowing you and Ben to snuggle in close.   
“If you post it on Insta you better credit me,” Set laughed, turning it round to show you.   
“I’ll do that,” He said with a smile, “It’s pretty cute, I think I have to post it.”   
“Really?” you asked, surprised he’d volunteer to do such a thing.   
Ben didn’t have a chance to respond because everything was ready to go. Seth put the phone back away so you could film the scene, laughing in between takes until everyone was satisfied.    
“That’s a wrap on Ben Hardy and Y/N Y/L/N everybody,”   
A round of applause started as you pushed yourself to sit up, trying to stop yourself from welling up.   
“And that’s a wrap on _The Perfect Match_.”   
The applause continued and Ben pulled you into a tight hug, rubbing your back and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You had to say a few words but you managed to get through it, and Ben’s little speech, without completely losing it. Afterwards, as people packed up the equipment and you headed back to your trailers to change, Ben pulled out his phone again.   
“I guess I should post that photo now, how’s this caption,” he said each word slowly as he typed it out, “Thank you Y/N for being the perfect Edith to my Andy. And thank you @theperfectmatchmovie for finding me my perfect match.”    
“Did you tag me?”   
“Of course,”   
“Did you tag Seth?”   
“Uhhhh, _camera emoji by @_ _seththesoundman_ _._ Now I have,”   
“Then it’s perfect. Little bit cheesy but I’ll let it slide.”   
“I’ll post another lot of photos with everyone else later and write a longer thing about how much fun this movie was and all of that, but I think this’ll do for the minute. Mary and Peter better fucking appreciate it.”

That evening most of the cast and crew headed out for drinks at the local pub. The official party would come later but everyone needed to get out and celebrate for an evening. You and Ben stayed for a few hours, Ben getting a little more clingy with each drink he finished. You limited yourself to only a couple. Ben wasn’t going to be able to drive so you decided to fall on that sword, switching to water quite early on. When he reached the point of intoxication that had him constantly complementing everyone you decided to call it a night, taking a final lap to say goodnight to everyone. There were a few wolf whistles and slurred comments about getting some as you left, Ben’s arm around your waist and his laugh in your ear, but you waved them off and led Ben out to your car.    
“C’mon Benny boy, I’ll drop you home.”   
“What about my car?”   
“Well you’ll have to come get it in the morning, won’t you.”   
He hummed and lay his head against the back of the seat, chatting animatedly as you made the trip to his. You wished him goodnight as he got out of the car and watched him make his way up to his front door. There he paused, patting his pockets.   
“Everything alright? You called out to him.   
“I don’t have any keys,” he laughed, turning around to come back to the car.   
“You fucking goon, did you leave them at the pub?”   
“Guess so,” he shrugged, “Can I crash at yours?”   
“Get in,”   
“Thanks cuddle bunny, you’re the best”   
You rolled your eyes, “Guess this means I’ll be your taxi tomorrow, running you around to find your keys and your car,”   
“That’s what girlfriends are for,”   
“If you say so.” 

Once at yours you headed to the kitchen to make tea, Ben following to grab a glass of water and a snack. He knew where you kept everything by now, making himself a sandwich with whatever he found in your fridge, and then carrying it out to the couch. By the time the teas were made Ben already had Netflix queued up, ready to play the next episode of the series you’d started watching together. Nearly Twenty minutes into the episode Ben’s phone dinged.   
“Ah shit,” he said as he glanced at it, “forgot I said I’d call Joe. Do you mind if we pause the ep? We’re trying to organise travel stuff for him and it’s easier if we talk it through rather than texting it all.”   
“Sure,”   
“I promise I won’t be long.”   
“Take your time, it’s fine,” you were already reaching for your laptop.   
Ben smiled at you before ducking out of the room. You head him walking down the hall, footsteps fading as he got further away. For a while you just enjoyed the quiet as you checked your emails and social media profiles but after commenting on the photo Ben had posted and replying to a few messages from people you knew there wasn’t really much left to do. You drummed your fingers on your keyboard trying to think of another website you could visit. There was still no sign of Ben and you didn’t want to continue the show without him so you stood up, stretched, and headed back to the kitchen to grab some chocolate from the stash you kept. You were just about to shut the fridge when you heard Ben’s voice coming from the other side of the wall. Your spare room where he’d clearly gone to make his phone call.    
“Yeah, Joe, I fucking know. But I don’t have much choice.” He sounded more sober than he had when he’d got up. There was a pause as Joe spoke and then you heard Ben again.   
“I don’t know what I was thinking getting into this mess…..Yeah maybe. Doesn’t really matter though now does it…. What’s that supposed to mean? I can’t just call it quits now, the story is doing too well and Peter has assured me that the numbers are promising or whatever I don’t really know how they measure it. All I know is that people are going to see the movie because of us.”   
There was a long pause. You quietly shut the fridge and took a step back towards the doorway. This was not a conversation you should be listening in to. But then Ben spoke again, and curiosity got the better of you.   
“It doesn’t matter Joe. It doesn’t matter how I feel.” He laughed but it was completely devoid of humour, “Of course it sucks. It’s fucking shit, man. I just keep waiting for her to tell me she feels the same but it’s not happening…... No, I know it’s completely one sided…..No, I don’t think she knows. She wouldn’t have wanted to do it in the first place if she knew…. I just wish things were different. I love being around her and being able to hold her and kiss her but it fucking sucks that it’s only in public….. I don’t know. Maybe not filming together will ma-”   
You could feel your cheeks burning as you tiptoed back towards the lounge room, not quite sure what to do with yourself. You paced back and forth for a moment before deciding to go to the bathroom, at least then Ben couldn’t walk in on you as you tried to process it. You let the door shut loudly behind you, hoping that if Ben had heard movement he’d think you’d just got up to use the loo. He couldn’t know you’d overheard him. You leaned against the sink and tried to make sense of what you’d heard. Ben couldn’t have a crush on you, he just couldn’t. But it was the only thing he could have been talking about. What the fuck did that mean for your arrangement? What the fuck were you meant to do now?


	3. Failure To Launch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions rise as you try to deal with Ben's secret and keep your fake relationship afloat. But when the script calls for an argument, will too much be said?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're really in it now folks.

When you finally found the courage to leave the bathroom Ben was waiting for you in the seat he’d vacated earlier, now under a crocheted throw and staring at his phone. He looked up at the sound of your footsteps, smiling softly when he saw you.  
“Sorry,” you blurted out, dropping onto the end of the couch furthest from where he sat.  
“No worries,” he laughed, “you ready to keep watching?”  
“Mmhmm,”  
“Are you alright? You look a little pale,”  
“Fine, thanks. Just tired. Might call it quits after this ep.”  
“You wanna share the blanket?”  
“Nah, I’m not that cold,” your heart was racing with every word of forced naturality, white noise filling your brain and nervous butterflies filling your stomach. Did he always smile like that when he saw you? What other signs had you missed? You tucked your legs under yourself and pulled your phone out, a barrier between you and he, and a way to keep your hands busy as you tried to focus on the show. It was pointless though. It felt like an age had passed since you began the episode. A dramatic shift in your reality had occurred. You couldn’t remember what had been happening when the pause button was hit let alone understand what was going on now. There just wasn’t space in your head, not when you had to keep reminding yourself to breathe and not look over at Ben. God how you wished you hadn’t gone into the kitchen. Ignorance truly was bliss. You rubbed your thumb over the locked screen of your phone, occasionally unlocking it and opening an app before locking it again, the episode dragging on in the background. Finally, it finished, after much too much time.  
“Ready for bed or d’you wanna squeeze in one more?” Ben asked, apparently completely at ease.  
“Definitely time for bed,” you yawned as you stood up, praying Ben wouldn’t stop you.  
“Alright. I’m gonna stay up a bit longer so if the TVs too loud let me know.”  
“Night,”  
“Sleep tight, cuddle bunny.”  
You could feel Ben’s eyes on you as you headed through the doorway, only barely stopping yourself from sprinting to the safety of your room. You weren’t at all tired, but you turned the light out all the same, stumbling towards your bed by the glow of your phone. As you settled again the pillows you let out a long breath, finally allowing yourself to relax. There was nothing else to do but try to distract yourself, until you felt tired enough. You checked your emails again, but there was nothing new besides some spam for bitcoins. Then you opened youtube, hoping to find some sort of relaxing video that would help you get to sleep. It worked for a while, made you focus on counting your breaths and the meditation that was calmly being spoken. But then it stopped working, thoughts of Ben wriggling back to the forefront of your mind, making a lump form in your throat. A little while later you heard Ben’s footsteps pass by your door as he made his way to his room, the low hum of voices on the TV now quiet. You held your breath as he paused outside your room but his footsteps backtracked, a light flicked off, and then the door to your spare room shut behind him. You didn’t dare move until you were sure he was in bed. But he didn’t stir again, and you fell into a fitful sleep, interrupted by dreams in which you and Ben walked around hand in hand, sometimes blissfully happy, sometimes unable to separate, glued together like a bug caught on flypaper.

The sun had risen by the time you called a time of death on a decent night’s sleep, though it was still what you’d normally consider much too early. It was even too early for Ben who, as you’d come to learn in your months crashing at each other’s places, usually woke before you and enjoyed teasing you about being a teenager for sleeping in so late. You tiptoed to the kitchen and tried not to make too much noise as you brewed yourself a coffee. Maybe it was the new morning bringing clarity or maybe it was delirium from lack of sleep, but you felt you had a better grasp of the situation now. The fact was you didn’t like Ben in that way. And he knew that. So the obvious thing to do was nothing. If you said anything, confessed that you’d overheard him, it’d just end up with both of you feeling embarrassed and you having to put what you both already knew into words that would just hurt Ben more. And that would only add extra stress onto whatever dates and staged relationship moments you’d have to take part in. Because you couldn’t just stop pretending to date. Not when your story was creating buzz for your movie. Not when you were looking for a new job and every scrap of notoriety you could find would help increase your chances of actually landing some of the roles you auditioned for. You’d just have to grin and bear it for a few months. But you supposed that’s what Ben had been doing since who knew how long. With coffee in hand you made your way back to your room, fortifying yourself for what was to come.

It was a few hours before you saw Ben, sleep tousled and searching for caffeine. He took one glance at you and then stepped in close, bringing his hand up to your forehead.  
You were too stunned by the sudden warmth and how all the air suddenly smelt of him to do more than quietly ask what he was doing.  
“Checking your temperature. Not like you to beat me out of bed. And you still look kind of pale. Are you sure you feel okay?”  
“I feel fine Ben.”  
He withdrew his hand slowly but didn’t move away, his eyes darting to your lips and away again. You stepped back.  
Ben cleared his throat and turned back to the coffee he was halfway through making, “Are you still okay to give me a lift back to the pub?”  
“Yeah, of course. Just let me have a shower first.”  
“Yeah, no rush.”  
You managed to mostly avoid Ben until you were both in the car. The evidence of his breakfast was loaded into the dishwasher when you got out of the bathroom but he himself was standing on your back patio, looking up at the overcast sky as smoke from his morning cigarette dissipated around him. He waved through the window when he saw you. After that all you had to do was wait for him to brush his teeth and gather up his bag while you flittered from room to room making yourself look busier than you were. Once in the car you started a safe conversation about what you’d be doing for the rest of the day.  
“I’m going over to a mates house in the afternoon to watch the football but that’s about it. What about you?”  
“Um, nothing much really. I have a couple of scripts to look over but other than that nothing. I’ll probably just go back to bed though.”  
“Probably a good idea.”  
“Do I look that bad? I thought the concealer covered the worst of it.”  
He shook his head with a smile, “No, you look lovely. Always do. But I heard you tossing and turning a bit last night, didn’t sound like you got much sleep.”  
“Yeah, just had one of those nights,” you tried to wave him off, back to safer waters.  
“Are you sure you’re okay?”  
“Yes, I promise I’m okay,” when Ben didn’t stop looking concerned you added, “Just had some weird dreams, that’s all.”  
“You should’ve come hopped into bed with me. Nothing like a boyfriend to scare off weird dreams.”  
You forced yourself to laugh along, “Not sure _fake_ boyfriends work so well. And it really wasn’t that bad.”  
He shrugged, “The offer stands for next time.”  
You didn’t know what else to say so you fell quiet. On one hand it was _Ben_. Ben who’d come to be one of your closest friends, who could make you laugh at the drop of a hat, who geeked out about sports and didn’t mind when you teased him for it. Usually you would have called him a dork and made a joke about how you’d hog the blankets or kick him in your sleep if he was unlucky enough to share a bed with you. But now that didn’t seem right. You didn’t want to lead him on at all. Didn’t want him to read more into your dumb jokes than you meant. So you let the radio fill the silence until Ben thought of a new topic. Thankfully the pub wasn’t far away, and you only had to fill a few more minutes with idle chatter until you arrived. You followed Ben inside and up to the bar where an amused barman handed over the keychain as Ben thanked him profusely.  
“God I would have been screwed if they hadn’t been there,” he said, relieved, as you stepped back out into the grey street.  
“Good thing they were there then,” you knew your tone was off, knew you should be standing closer to him in case anyone was looking, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take the step, “Where’re you parked?”  
“Just around the corner. Thanks for the lift, cuddle bunny,” Ben stepped close enough to pull you into a hug. Your chest tightened as you tried to stay relaxed, throwing your own arms over his shoulders like you normally would have.  
“Have a good day. Get some rest,” he said, kissing your cheek as he let you go.  
“I’ll try. Have a good day yourself.”  
With a wave Ben took off down the street and you got back in your car, driving in the opposite direction. It wasn’t until you were back home in your pyjamas that you realised that if Ben had heard you not sleeping, he mustn't have been sleeping either.

Filming being over was a blessing, even if it did mean you were unemployed. It at least gave you a reprieve from being around Ben, although, as much as you didn’t want to admit it, it also felt weird to not see him every day. He’d become such a consistent part of your life, even without the whole fake dating thing, that the absence of his almost constant presence made you feel a little off kilter. You hadn’t seen him since he’d stayed the night, too nervous about how to act around him now, but you had exchanged a few texts and he called once to check that you’d caught up on sleep. It was the sort of thing a friend might do, so it didn’t make your stomach do flips the way seeing him in person did. But seeing him was unavoidable, especially after Mary called you to organise the next photo session. She gave you the time and the place and then asked if you had any concerns. You paused, weighing up whether it would be worth it to tell her. Would she tell Peter? Would it get back to Ben?  
“No, that’s all good. Ben knows?”  
“Yes, Peter’s talking to him about it. We’ve also been talking about the argument you’ll need to have.”  
“Oh?”  
“We’re considering planting someone in the area to record it on their phone. Pictures are good but video is better.”  
“Okay, that, uh, makes sense, I guess. I s’pose that means we should work out what it’s going to be about.”  
“That would be useful, Y/N. We’re leaning towards doing it next week.”  
“That soon?”  
“Yes, that soon. There’s been an upswing in comments online about the relationship potentially being fake and we’d like to try and clamp down on those.”  
“People are onto us?”  
“No, no, there’s always a few unbelievers, we were entirely prepared for that. Every Hollywood couple has endured the same sorts of comments at one time or another, no matter how real they were. But there’s been a few more this week than there were before. We hope that if people see you being unhappy with each other, they’ll be less likely to think it’s fake because A, fake relationships should be happy and B, it’ll make you seem more down to earth, relatable. Every relationship has moments when things aren’t the best and your relationship should reflect that to seem natural.”  
“Okay, so next week we fight. What about this week? Should we still act super happy and loved up?”  
“Look, there are pros and cons for that. On one hand if you act like everything is perfect now, it’ll take people by surprise when the argument happens which some people will see as normal and some will see as more evidence for it not being real. On the other if people suspect something is happening then the argument story could lose some of its impact when it runs. Either way, if people are talking about you it’s good, so it’s really up to you and Ben how you want to play it. Maybe give him a call and figure it out before you get there.”  
That made you feel a little better, hopefully any awkwardness or tension you weren’t able to hide would just be seen as a couple going through a small rough patch.

You bit the bullet and rang Ben as soon as Mary hung up, while you could summon the courage.  
“Hey, Ben, it’s -,”  
“Y/N!”  
A few male voices in the background rose up making high pitched _oooo_ noises and someone wolf whistled.  
“Sorry, I’m just in the middle of kicking these dickhead’s arses in FIFA, gimme a sec,”  
“Sure thing,”  
You hung on the line, trying to work out what you were going to say as you listened to the guys trash talking each other and controller buttons being mashed. Eventually there was a cheer from Ben followed by a hearty _suck on that, wanker_ , and then his laughter.  
“Hey, cuddle bunny,”  
The teasing voices started buck up again, but they faded as Ben carried the phone into another room.  
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked as he closed a door behind him.  
“Have you spoken to Peter yet?”  
Ben’s voice lowered, “You mean about the shopping photos? Yeah, he called about an hour ago, why?”  
“Did he mention the fight next week?  
“Yeah, it came up,” you weren’t sure whether the melancholy tone you heard was in your heard or not, “is that why you called, to work out what we’ll argue about?”  
“Not really. Um, I was more thinking about the photos this week and the sort of, um, mood they’ll have.”  
“Mood?”  
“Well, like, if we’re leading into a fight wouldn’t it make sense to, I don’t know, kind of hint what’s coming?”  
“I’d just assumed we’d be all over each other like usual.”  
“Yeah, I mean, not a huge change. We’d still like hold hands or whatever they want us to do but y’know maybe if we just like make things look a bit tense?”  
“Oh-kay,” there was definitely less of a smile in his voice now than before, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to pull it off though.”  
“You’re a good actor Ben, I’m sure you’ll manage,”  
“I wasn’t fishing for that but thanks. It’s more that I’ve missed hanging out with you as much since filming ended, it’ll be hard to hide how happy I am to see you.”  
“That’s sweet” You wondered if that was because of how he felt about you or just a change in routine throwing him off that way it had done you, “It has felt kind of odd not seeing you every day.”  
“So let’s just see how we feel on the day then, before we decide what we’re going to do.”  
“Ben you know I like to plan more than that,”  
“We have a plan. Go out. Hold hands while we go shopping or whatever and some guy takes our photos. Go home. That’s a pretty solid plan.”  
“Not quite what I meant though.”  
There was a muffled shout and you heard Ben cover the receiver and shout something back.  
“Sorry, the boys think we’re having phone sex or something,” he laughed.  
“No, I’m sorry, I’m interrupting, I should let you go.”  
“It’s okay, they can play without me for a bit,”  
“No, no, you go back to your game.”  
“Wait, we didn’t talk about what we’re gonna argue about.”  
“We can discuss it while we’re shopping. Wouldn’t want them to overhear you anyway. You go have fun beating your friends, I’ll see you in a couple of days.” You hung up before he could say anything, feeling more unsure than when you called.

The day of the photos you spent the trip into London psyching yourself up, reminding yourself that this was just acting, and acting was something you could do blindfolded with one hand tied behind your back. Besides, if some of your discomfort showed, it wouldn’t matter, at least you hoped it wouldn’t. Ben was already at the designated meeting spot when you arrived in the city, a photographer nearby waiting to capture your reunion. Having someone to perform for helped ease the tension that had been weighing on you. You smiled at Ben as you approached, legs feeling unsteady, heart racing. As soon as you were close enough you leaned in to steal a quick kiss and let him brush a strand of hair behind your ear, almost whispering your greetings. With the hellos out of the way he took your hand and began leading you up the street.  
“So where are you taking me this time, babe?”  
“Nowhere specific, babe,” he laughed, “They just want us to like, be out and about. I’ve been directed to walk us up this way, maybe pop into a shop or stop for a drink or something.”  
“Any idea how long it’ll take?”  
“Why? you got somewhere to be?”  
“Nah, just curious. I can stay for as long as the job takes.”  
Ben’s fingers flexed against yours, but you weren’t sure if it was in response to your statement or just a coincidence. Either way it made you worry that you were putting more emphasis than usual on this being work for you. Ben couldn’t suspect that something had changed, he couldn’t know what you knew about him. You corrected yourself by squeezing his hand and smiling up at him. As you walked you tried to treat it like you were filming a scene in a movie, just with less blocking and more improv. You were playing a role, playing the girlfriend, and nothing outside of the scene mattered, though occasionally you couldn’t help wondering what was going through Ben’s head. Was he trying to remind himself it was all manufactured or was he letting himself believe it was real? You shook your head and pulled yourself back into the scene. Together you ambled past shops, stopping to look in the windows of some, actually going into others. Inside a cute secondhand bookstore you’d seen but never been in before, Ben insisted on buying you something. He jokingly showed you a copy of the Kama Sutra, softly assuring you that the inernet would lose its mind if that book was seen in a photo. You shook your head and laughed and he put it back and let you pick something much less suggestive. You tried to tell him you could buy it yourself but he took it from your hands with a, “nuh uh, I spoil my girlfriends,” taking it up to the counter before you could protest. All the same you repaid the favour by pulling him to a halt outside a donut shop and buying the both of you a snack. It had the added bonus of giving you an excuse to drop his hand, needing both to keep from dripping chocolate ganache down your front as you continued walking. Ben wasn’t quite so neat as you managed to be, a spot of raspberry jam smeared across his lip and chin. As soon as you noticed it you pointed it out to him, earning a groan as he tried to wipe clean the wrong part of his face.  
“No, to the left more. My left, sorry.”  
“Why don’t you just get it for me?”  
“Really?”  
“yeah, c’mon. That’s the sort of cute couple thing they want. It’ll go over well on twitter with everyone who mashes our names together in hashtags.”  
You couldn’t think of reasonable argument not to so, with a smile you hoped didn’t seem too fake, you swiped your thumb over the patch of jam, hesitating for a second before you brought it to your lips and sucked it clean.  
A soft blush rose on Ben’s cheeks before your eyes and, seemingly unconsciously, he pulled his lower lip between his teeth.  
You didn’t want to hear whatever he might possibly say so you quickly turned to set off walking again, “So, our argument next week.”  
Ben shook his head, “Right, that.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.  
“It’s gotta sound believable if there’s going to be a camera.”  
“Guess that rules out all the _which brand of tea is best_ type arguments,”  
“Yeah, it should probably be a little more serious than that,” you conceded with a chuckle  
“Have you ever had a public argument before?”  
“Umm,” his question distracted you from the tension you’d been fighting since you arrived, “not like a full on fight but there’ve been snippy comments and disagreements. Sometimes they turned into full on fights once we were home. You?”  
“Once. At her parent’s place during their anniversary party.”  
“Yikes,”  
“Yeah, pretty much,” he chuckled, “We found a spare room before we really had it out, but people still heard.”  
“God that would have been horrible. I think my worst one was when me and my then boyfriend went out for dinner with some other mates. They were new parents and it was like their first night out since the kid was born and they were talking about how wonderful it all was,”  
“It’s a miracle don’t you know,”  
You laughed, “So they said. But they were talking about how hard it had been to start having sex again and then my boyfriend said something like _it’s hard enough to get Y/N interested and that’s without a kid_.”  
“Jesus,”  
“It gets worse. He had another dig at me later for not being adventurous enough and I realised it was because I’d said I wasn’t comfortable with something he wanted to try in the bedroom.”  
“What an arsehole. Please tell me you broke up with him on the spot,”  
“God I wish. I stayed with him for another two months,” you sighed at the memory, “But what about you though, what happened with the anniversary fight?”  
“Uh, well, it all happened pretty quickly. One second I was joking about what we’d be like at our anniversary party, the next she was saying she didn’t see us getting married and then we were in her old bedroom tearing into each other. And not in the fun way.”  
“Oh shit,”  
“It was for the best. We were way to young anyway but, still, not super fun. I don’t know if that helps us at all, with our fake argument I mean.”  
“Well, ours both started with small comments, right? So maybe we start with something small, like how you never put the toilet seat down?” you nudged his shoulder.  
He laughed, “Yeah, makes sense.”  
“Then we just have to work out what it builds to,”  
“Uhhh, things couples fight about… moving in together? Sex? Money? Control?”  
“Not sex. I’m invoking rule one here, sex is off limits. That’s way too close to home.”  
“Okay, fair enough.”  
“What about meeting the parents? We’ve apparently been seeing each other for three or so months now, so that’s not an unreasonable thing to argue about.”  
“Yeah. And we’re already both coping it from our families anyway, so they’d believe it if one of us wanted to do the family meeting thing and the other didn’t.”  
“Exactly. So, should I be the hesitant one or you?”  
“Honestly? I normally would have brought a girlfriend home by now. My parents think it’s really weird that I haven’t.”  
“Okay, so that makes me the hesitant one then.”  
“You okay with that?”  
“Yeah, absolutely.” You were slightly relieved at your role, figuring it’d be easier to act averse to the concept than all for it.  
“Let’s stop in at that café up there, talk though some things we could say. Give them a shot of us feeding each other chips or something.” Ben said with a playful smile, pointing ahead. You nodded, letting him take your hand again, returning the reassuring squeeze he gave you.

You were woken from another dream about Ben by your phone ringing. Groggily you answered.  
“Y/N, oh my god, is everything okay with Ben?”  
“Felicity?” you groaned, trying to push away the surprisingly detailed picture of Ben and you and a page from the Kama Sutra that your brain had conjured during the night.  
“Were you seriously still asleep? It’s midday.”  
“Shut up, I’m allowed to sleep in. No job, no auditions. And a shit night sleep.”  
“Was it because of Ben?”  
“Why would it be because of Ben?” you asked too quickly.  
“I saw the photos of you and him out yesterday. Is everything okay between you two?”  
“What photos?”  
“They’re on the _Heat_ homepage,”  
You wedged the phone under your ear as you grabbed your laptop from the bedside table, willing your fingers to work a little faster as you found your way to the website. There was a gallery of photos. You and Ben smiling as you greeted each other. Walking hand in hand. Him through a shop window holding up a book and you laughing at it. You licking jam from your thumb. You paused for a second longer on that shot than the others, automatically focusing on Ben’s expression. Did everyone else see the flush on his cheeks and the look in his eyes?  
“Why would anything be wrong?” you asked, forcing yourself to move to the next photo, “These all look fine. Normal.”  
“Really? What about those last few?”  
Rolling your eyes you keep clicking through until you reached one of Ben, hands in his pockets, frowning a little. The next was you, sitting at the café, looking away from Ben.  
“Are you going to break up with him?”  
“What? No, definitely not. We were just talking about something kind of serious, that’s all.”  
“Break up serious?”  
“God, Felicity, no,” you almost laughed at the irony of her suggestion, “I guarantee you, we’re not breaking up anytime soon.” An idea came to you. If the world was going to see you arguing about meeting his parents then why not get the ball rolling early, “We were talking about meeting each other’s families. We haven’t done it yet.”  
“Really?”  
“Yes, really. He wants to but I’m not super keen to rush into that and it was just a kind of serious conversation. Everything is totally fine.”  
“Well one of the betting apps has odds up for when you’ll break up. And for who’ll actually end it. Odds are on you, by the way.”

Later that day Mary emailed to let you know the photos were working perfectly – the talk of your relationship being fake had died down – and when the argument would happen. They wanted you to go out to dinner and leave before you were finished, looking like you were on the verge of blowing up. Easy enough. You were prepared. You and Ben had hashed out some things you could use in the argument, without going so far as to write a full script. But the mention of the photos made you curious. What exactly were people saying about you now? Could anyone see what was actually going on, how one sided it all really was? In the days before the scheduled argument you found yourself looking at your own photos more and more. When you weren’t spending your time rehearsing for an audition or with your friends you were on twitter, falling down a rabbit hole of comments and reposted photos. If Felicity, or anyone else you knew for that matter, had found out she would have called you a narcissist. So you kept it to yourself. Your guilty pleasure. Seeing the comments about what a cute couple you were made you feel simultaneously pleased and queasy. You got a strange delight from knowing people believed you enough to speculate about your future, to write fanfiction about you. It was hard to pull your eyes away once you started and it definitely didn’t help you stop dreaming about Ben. The trail of reposted photos in your couple name hashtag led to compilations of screenshots of every comment Ben had left on your photos. All of them flirty and playful and beyond sweet. And he meant them. They weren’t just for show for him, they were real. The queasy feeling grew but still you kept scrolling. Day after Day as you killed time, night after night before sleep took you. Photos posted on Instagram by you or people you’d worked with on _The Perfect Match_ , copied and reuploaded to twitter followed by screencaps of yours and Ben’s comments. Photos of the two of you on set, on dates, cuddled up on your couch. Every single one of them commented on by him. Kiss face emojis or cutesy pet names or sincere messages of attraction, love. The more you looked the more uncomfortable you felt about the whole situation. If Ben really did feel something for you beyond just friendship, then your arrangement wasn’t just unfair it was downright heartless. But, as you reminded yourself, he’d chosen it. If he’d had a crush on you and had still gone ahead with the studio’s plan, that was on him. You could hardly be blamed when you’d been working with half the information. And if it had developed afterwards then it was on him to talk to Peter and call the whole thing off if he had to. You huffed out a breath when you saw the first photo he’d posted of the two of you. The last day of filming, snuggled up in bed. _My perfect match_. As fucking if. You scrolled further down the hashtag and then back to his photo. The queasy feeling was lessening, being replaced with frustration and anger. Why would he have agreed to the arrangement if his crush was real? Why wouldn’t he have come up with some excuse? You’d expected him to say no anyway, it wouldn’t have surprised you or upset you and they’d had made it clear that you had the option to say no. Who was he to indulge his fantasies about you like this? Without telling you. Was he so sadistic as to enjoy torturing himself like that? If you could only ask him why. Ask how long he’d felt like that. But you couldn’t without admitting to eavesdropping and you couldn’t put an end to it anyway. You were stuck. It was enough to make you want to scream. With a long exhale you made your way to the kitchen for a calming cup of tea. As you reached into the cupboard for a mug your fingers brushed against a handle of his, the one you’d painted for him. You pulled it out and examined the lyrics you’d so carefully lettered. Why’d you have to pick that song of all things? Did he take it as encouragement that you’d picked a song with such lovelorn, infatuated lyrics? You had the sudden urge to smash the mug against the bench top. But you refrained, putting it back and grabbing another.

By the time you were getting ready to meet Ben for the dinner before the argument you were fed up with him and the whole arrangement. You couldn’t open a social media app without seeing a comment or a direct message from someone about Ben, if not from the man himself. You had no one you could talk to about it since, aside from Ben, Mary and Peter were the only people who knew your relationship was fake and neither of them was going to put an end to it if Ben wasn’t uncomfortable enough to mention it himself. Once or twice you’d considered messaging Joe, since he apparently knew everything too, but you’d chickened out every time, not sure how to go about it since you’d never met him and he was likely to tell Ben, even if you swore him to secrecy. You’d even considered telling Felicity but, though you trusted her to keep it to herself, she was kind of getting on your nerves too. Whenever you saw or heard from her, her first questions were always about Ben. She was mostly well intentioned, checking that you were happy and asking how things were between you, but sometimes she was closer to straight up gossiping – updating you on the odds given to those betting you’d still be together by the end of the month, slyly telling you what the latest article in _Heat_ implied. And every time you were reminded of the impossible situation you found yourself in you couldn’t help but blame Ben. You wanted to have a crack at him about it, call him out for being a selfish git. But you had a job to do, and you were nothing if not professional. You went over the plan again – a snippy comment about him not putting the toilet seat down, he’d say something about a bad habit of yours, you warning him no to start something, him starting something anyway by suggesting you weren’t as invested since you refused to meet his family. Lots of crossed arms and unhappy glances and then the strained suggestion you leave. You’d walk back to his car in silence and let the photographer get a few shots before you got in and drove away. Easy.

Ben greeted you outside the restaurant with an easy grin and a complement.  
“Tone it down, Ben, we’re not meant to be too happy tonight.”  
“Hey, I’m allowed to be happy until we get into it,” he stopped talking as you went inside and found your table, waiting until the waiter had disappeared with your drink orders before he said anything more to you, “You nervous?”  
“Not really. It’s just acting.”  
“So having a public spat doesn’t bother you but you almost lost your lunch over our first date?”  
You looked down at the menu, “That was just because the whole situation was new and I felt weird about going on a date with you.”  
“Right,” he looked at his menu too.  
You didn’t care if it had sounded mean or if he took it personally, it was the truth, “Are you nervous?”  
“A little.”  
“Any particular reason?”  
“Uhh,” he drew the sound out as long as he could, “I just get more nervous before argument scenes than love scenes. I don’t know why. They’re harder to make convincing maybe?” He shrugged and made a face like it was a random suggestion pulled from thin air and not an excuse he’d come up with while stalling for time. You put the menu down and tapped your fingers on the table, looking around at the other patrons but barely taking notice of them. Ben glanced at you but only for a second. It was a relief when the waiter returned with your drinks and asked for your orders, though that didn’t help the strained silence that fell once he’d left again.  
“So, seen Felicity lately?” Ben asked, making a valiant attempt at polite conversation that you weren’t going to rise to.  
“The other day.”  
“How is she?”  
“Fine.”  
“That’s good. She still subscribed to _Heat_?”  
“Unfortunately. Brings you up every time I talk to her.” You huffed.  
Ben sighed.  
Even that annoyed you. You bit your tongue to stop from saying something bitchy before the food arrived. There was a plan to stick to.  
“How’re you going with auditions?” Ben tried again.  
“Okay I guess.”  
“Any callbacks?”  
“Not yet. You?”  
“A couple,” he shrugged, “You’ll get one soon, I’m sure. You’re too good an actress not to.”  
“Yeah, maybe.”  
Ben took a sip of his drink and sighed again, the noise grating on you, “What’s got into you tonight, Y/N?” He leaned forward and dropped his voice so as not to be overheard, “I know we’re meant to argue but you’re obviously not in a good mood anyway. Did something happen?”  
“Nothing, Ben. Everything’s fucking peachy.”  
“Doesn’t really sound like it.”  
“Drop it Ben.”  
“Fine. Suit yourself.” He leaned back in his chair and took another drink. You took a drink too, staring at the other side of the room. You hoped that the hired paparazzi was in position and getting some good shots.

The food arrived and you forced yourself to eat some of it, though you didn’t feel like it at all. Ben tried again to get you talking, asking how your meal was but you gave him another short answer. You stopped trying to eat and just moved the food around your plate. He took another drink and gave you a concerned look, “Y/N, if this is about something I’ve done, can you please just tell me.”  
You couldn’t hold back anymore, all thoughts of the plan, of the argument you were meant to be having, gone, “Of course it’s about something you’ve done.”  
“Then tell me what it is so I can try to change it.”  
“You can’t change it Ben.”  
“Not if I don’t know what we’re talking about. Just talk to me. Do I leave the toilet seat up? Do I load the dishwasher wrong?” He was trying to pull you back on track, “Whatever it is I can fix it. I never want to upset you.”  
His last sentence was said with such sincerity that you felt your chest constrict, “That’s what I’m talking about Ben. It’s too much.”  
“Babe,” he reached across to grab your hand but you pulled it back out of his reach, “What do you mean?”  
“I mean this – us, you and me. You’re so earnest and I can’t keep….”  
“Y/N, don’t.”  
“I can’t keep pretending that everything is okay Ben. Not when you’re posting on Instagram that we’re a perfect match and you’re calling to check up on me and acting like we’re super fucking serious. You’re clingy and needy and I can’t keep pretending I love you as much as you love me.” You bit your tongue before you could say anything more you shouldn’t and stood up, “I’m sorry. I need some space.”  
Ben looked completely stunned only managing to blurt your name out once you’re back was to him. With a hand over your mouth you hurried from the restaurant, able to feel the eyes of everyone in the room burning into you. There was a clatter of cutlery as Ben stood up behind you. but you didn’t know if he’d followed. You didn’t turn back.


	4. The Perfect Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's trouble in paradise for you and Ben but will the distance bring about some revelations? And what does it mean for your romantic reunion?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get a lil spicy in this one. Disclaimer that I don't drink so I have no idea what a bottle of wine split between two people will do to them.

You headed straight to the bathroom and threw up. Ben had called twice on your way home, but you’d let it go to voicemail, not ready to hear him admonish you for eavesdropping on him or to be asked if you felt the same. You supposed it was adrenaline or something that was making you feel nauseous. Of course, you’d have to talk to him eventually, at least to apologise for going so off book, but it could wait until you weren’t feeling so miserable. With teary eyes, you made your way to the kitchen, grabbed a drink to help settle your stomach, and then flopped onto the couch to flick through TV channels until you found something distracting enough. Your phone rang again but when you glanced at the screen it wasn’t Ben’s name you saw.  
“Mary?”  
If she heard any evidence of your distress in your voice she didn’t mention it, “Brilliant performance Y/N. The video was tweeted out about ten minutes after you left the restaurant and it’s already been shared more than you’d believe.”  
“Oh, that’s good.”  
“Better than good. People are eating it up. There’ll be articles tomorrow predicting your breakup and not just the ones we’ve organised. We’re going to ask that you and Ben refrain from seeing each other in public for the next two weeks or so, make it look like you’re taking some time apart. That’ll give the video plenty of time to circulate and allow us to get out a few variations of the _trouble in paradise_ story. Of course, you’re free to visit each other and speak over the phone but be wary in case other paparazzi start following you in addition to the one’s we’ve hired. Chances are more people will be looking to scoop the official breakup story if all goes as well as these early numbers indicate it will. Then we’ll hit them with the romantic makeup dinner at _Boucher_. And after that it’s back to playing the happy couple. Of course there’ll be the press junket and premiere in a couple of months’ time and then we can break you up for good.”  
She kept talking about plans for he press tour, something about flights and hotels, but you stopped paying attention, already getting twitter open and searching for the video. It didn’t take long to find it, the caption proclaiming he who’d caught the footage had noticed you and Ben arrive and had pulled out his camera as soon as he realised things weren’t particularly happy.   
“Sorry, Mary, I’m gonna have to call you back.”  
“Everything alright?”  
“Yeah, just a small mishap with the washing machine. I’ll talk to you later.”  
As soon as she was gone you pressed play on the video. Filmed from a table to the left of yours and slightly behind your shoulder, the phone tipped at an angle so it wouldn’t be spotted. Your heart pounded as you watched. It was all there, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife as Ben tried to draw you into conversation. You heard the bite in your tone, the confusion in his. And you saw what you’d not noticed in the moment. The way his face fell when you said it was too much. The way his nails dug into his palm as he clutched his fork so tightly. The hurt on his face when you called him clingy and needy. He stood up as you walked away but he didn’t follow, just dragged his hand through his hair and then sat down heavily, worrying at his thumbnail with his teeth. The waiter came over, presumably with the bill but the video cut out before anything more was said. They’d got what they wanted. They didn’t need the aftermath.

The next day there was an unexpected knock on your door. You put down your phone where you were watching the video again and peeked out the window, worried that it was Ben come to confront you. Instead you saw Felicity raise her fist and knock again.   
“I saw the video,” was the first thing she said when you let her in, “are you okay?”  
“I wish people would stop asking me that. I’m fine.”   
“You had a straight up cat fight in the middle of a restaurant, and there are paparazzi practically camping in your front yard, you’re not fine.”  
“Okay, maybe not fine fine. But it’s whatever. How many are out there?”  
“Three. But what happened? Last week you told me you weren’t going to break up.”  
“We haven’t broken up.”  
“Well then what was that?”  
“I don’t know. It’s been building for a bit I guess. He’s just more serious about it all than I am.”  
“So I heard. Are you sure you aren’t just panicking?”  
“Panicking about what?”  
“Well, y’know, you’ve been in the tabloids a bit lately. That must put a strain on things. Maybe you just got a little freaked out by it and pushed Ben away rather than let yourself be vulnerable,”  
“What are you my shrink?”  
“Hey, I’m just trying to help.”  
“Yeah well, you’re wrong. The paps are kind of annoying but they aren’t the problem. The problem…” you took a breath as you considered what was safe to say, “the problem is that Ben has been on a different page to me for a while now. I think we both just need some space.”  
“Okay, if that’s what you want to go with,” she clearly didn’t believe you, “Have you talked to him about it?”  
“Not yet. Figured I’d call back sometime today when my head was clearer.”  
She nodded, “Well, I’m here for you. Whatever you need. Moral support when you call him or someone to bitch to afterwards or just somebody to get drunk with.” She pulled you into a hug, squeezing you tight and for a moment you felt like you might cry. All you could think about was Ben’s expression when you walked out, how wounded he looked.

Felicity stayed with you for the rest of the day which was good because her presence stopped you from doing nothing but watching the video over and over again. As it was you found it hard to keep yourself from looking at the comments people left on it. A lot of people took Ben’s side, calling you a bitch or worse, sometimes even direct messaging you their opinions. But there were also those lampooning Ben for smothering you, some going so far as to claim they were early signs of manipulative and controlling tendencies and that he deserved the public humiliation of it all. Those were the comments that made you feel worst. Being called a cunt you could deal with. Being told Ben deserved better you could easily deal with. But seeing such horrible suggestions of Ben being thrown about made your heart ache. He wasn’t mean or manipulative. He’d been nothing but kind to everyone on set and especially to you. Any lingering annoyance that hadn’t left you along with the little you’d eaten seemed to melt away, leaving you feeling cold at the thought of what you’d said. Yes he’d been stupid and selfish to agree to pretend to date you when he actually had a crush on you. But not once had he tried to wheedle a confession of love from you, not once had he pushed himself onto you. He’d always been respectful of your boundaries, warned you before he kissed you, asked if you wanted to share a blanket rather than just assume you did. Even your rules he’d mostly stuck to. The one exception being the cutesy nickname, but you’d never put up much of a fight with that. You only knew that he felt something for you because you’d listened in to a private conversation. And really, could you blame him for developing feelings? You’d literally been cast as lovers because you had good chemistry and then you’d spent weeks getting even closer, made all the more necessary by your fake romance. He was hardly the first person in history to have his on-screen feelings transfer to real life. And surely, if he’d decided to tell his friend everything, even after signing contractual documents about keeping it secret, then he must be serious about you, about how much he liked you. Maybe you had it wrong. Maybe there was something there you hadn’t consi-.  
“Stop wallowing,” Felicities voice cut through your thoughts, “Put the phone down and stop thinking about Ben for five minutes.”  
You shook your head to clear it, “I’m not wallowing.”  
“Are you on twitter right now?”  
“Maybe,”  
“You’re wallowing. C’mon, give me the phone.” She held out her hand, giving you had no choice but to hand it over.   
“Has anyone ever told you you’d make a good teacher,”  
“Once or twice. You can have this,” she brandished your phone at you and then shoved it into her bag, “back when you’re ready to call Ben. Until then we are getting out of the house.”  
“Out of the house where?” you asked, letting her pull you from your seat.  
“Just out. You need some fresh air. Go on, get your shoes.”  
“Alright, alright, I’m going,” you said, with the first genuine chuckle you’d had in days.

You ended up at the park a street over, sitting on a bench overlooking the duckpond. One or two of the photographers followed you, but they were easy to ignore. As soon as you stopped moving your mind was back on the previous night, but Felicity must have sensed as much for she quickly blurted out a fun fact about ducks to distract you. For the rest of the time you were there she kept your mind on other things. She gave you an extended rundown on all the gossip from her workplace. It didn’t matter that you didn’t know who Derick was, you soon heard all about his tryst with the copy boy, and when you asked if the Susie M who was mentioned was the same Susie M that made out with the boss at last year’s Christmas party you heard all about the fallout from her drunk misstep. Felicity led you on a stroll around the pond as you laughed at her stories and filled her in on what you were hoping your next role would be.   
“I’ve been sent a couple of interesting scripts. There’s one for a sci fi time travel thing which I’m hoping to get a call back for. And there was one for a comedy about a coven of witches causing mayhem with their potions. I’m only about halfway through the script but I’d happily play any of the three lead witches, so I think I’ll have a crack at it.”  
“They both sound really good. Different to your last role.”  
“Yeah. Different’s good though.”  
Eventually you wound your way towards a small coffee shop opposite the far side of the park. The slice of apple tea cake you ordered was the first food you’d eaten since the few bites at dinner and Felicity didn’t let you leave until you’d finished it, though she was subtle in her insistence. When you put your fork down with food still left on the plate she ordered a second coffee for each of you which gave you little to do but keep eating. You thanked her after but she pretended not to know what you were talking about. It wasn’t until you got home again that she returned your phone.  
“You should call Ben,”  
“Do I have to?”  
“Stop pouting and do it. You’re cute together and you obviously love him. Just suck it up and talk to him.”  
You let out a heavy sigh and then took the phone back, refraining from rolling your eyes at how wrong she was about your feelings.

You headed out onto the back patio and, with some slight trepidation, called Ben. The call rang out. With a frown you headed back inside only to be greeted by Felicity making chicken noises.  
“I didn’t chicken out, he just didn’t pick up. He must be busy.”  
“Or he’s upset. Call back. You can come in after he’s not picked up three times or you’ve had a chat.”  
“Okay, I’ll try again, jeez,” you went back outside and shut the door behind you. Your second attempt was as unsuccessful as your first and you were just about to hang up on the third try when he picked up.  
“Hello?”  
“Hi Ben,”  
“Y/N,” there was none of the joy in his voice that usually accompanied your name.   
“Can we talk, is now a good time?”  
“Yeah,”  
“Okay, I just, uh, I wasn’t sure since you didn’t pick up straight away.”  
“Well I wouldn’t want to come across as more needy than I already do.”  
“I shouldn’t have said that,” you leaned against the wall of the house in the same spot you’d seen Ben lean countless times after you’d told him he couldn’t smoke inside, “I’m so so sorry about everything I said.”  
“It’s not what you said, Y/N. I get it, we had to fight and you let loose. From an acting perspective I’m actually really fucking impressed. I, uh, I might have watched the video when I got home, just once, and it looks legit. Like, that line about pretending to love me as much as I do you.”  
You held your breath, waiting for him to ask how you knew.  
“I mean, that’s exactly what we were going for anyway, just without the details of not having met each other’s families. Everyone still heard us argue about moving at different paces and it was some really great improvisation.”  
“You think so?”  
“Yeah absolutely. I don’t think I could have come up with a line like that on the fly. Seriously, if we were allowed to tell people it was fake, that would have fit well on your audition reel.”  
“So you’re not upset with me?”  
There was a pause as Ben thought about his next words.  
“Not upset exactly. Like I said, I get that it was a scene. But the way you sounded when you called me clingy….it was pretty clear there were some real feelings in there too and I,” Ben sighed, “I just wish you’d talk to me about how you were feeling beforehand.”  
“I didn’t really know how.”  
“But if I’d known that I was making you uncomfortable or coming across as clingy I would have pulled back. I could have texted less or crashed at your place less often. Not insisted on buying you books on our fake dates.”   
You scuffed your foot against the ground, not sure whether to come clean about overhearing him. You’d expected Ben to have realised by now that you knew, not to take what you’d said as some incredible performance.   
“I know I got kinda caught up in it all though,” he said before you could summon the courage to admit anything, “I, um, I really like…”  
You could feel your heart racing, convinced he was about to confess his feelings for you, completely unsure how to react.  
“…being someone’s boyfriend.”  
“Oh,” Why was he so determined to surprise you? Why did you feel disappointed?   
“It suits me. I like having someone to dote on and take care of and talk to and I guess it’s been a while since I properly, seriously dated anyone. I feel like I’ve got all this boyfriend energy stored up and nowhere for it to go. It comes in handy when we’re pretending to be on a date or whatever but sometimes it slips out when we’re just hanging out as friends, without the cameras and all that. Which isn’t an excuse or anything, I’m not trying to undermine any discomfort you felt.”  
“No, I get it.”  
“You do?”  
“Yeah. I mean, we said it was a weird situation right back when it was first pitched to us. That hasn’t really changed, has it?”  
“No,” he said with a small, soft chuckle, “still weird.”  
“Exactly. And sometimes I think it can be kind of confusing.”  
“Confusing?”  
You had a sudden mental image of a dog with pricked up ears, “Confusing’s maybe the wrong word. Hard to keep up with is I guess what I’m trying to say. It’s different to acting in love with someone on a movie because on a movie there’s a definite time span. The director calls cut and you can stop pretending. But we don’t get that cut. Even when there’s no cameras we’re still faking it for the people we know and anyone who might see us,” you glanced inside to make sure Felicity wasn’t listening in.  
“Do you think that’s why you didn’t know how to talk to me? Because there’s no clear line between Y/N and Ben as friends and Y/N and Ben as a couple.”  
“Maybe,” you shrugged, “I don’t think it helps.”  
“Yeah. It’s like, obviously there are times when we have to be all coupley and I guess it gets hard to say when something is uncomfortable because then it’s like what about next time we’re out and we have to do that thing anyway. And there are things I’m happy to do with my friends that I don’t think twice about but might carry extra meaning in our situation.”  
“Exactly. I don’t want to say I don’t like something and make you feel bad when we then have to do it because people are watching.”  
“So what are you suggesting then?”  
“Well, we aren’t allowed to see each other in public for a couple of weeks now, right? So maybe this could be a chance for us to take a break. Not in a completely cut off way, I still wanna talk to you and stuff. But if we give ourselves some space, y’know. Try and shake….excess feelings a-and work out our boundaries better.”  
“Sure, yeah, I can see how that would help.”  
“It’s just a couple of weeks and like we can still text or call or whatever we just wouldn’t hang out together and it wouldn’t be every day.”  
“Y/N, I get it. It’s a good idea.”  
You took a deep breath, “Okay. Cool. Um, so we’re good?”  
“Of course we are. I-” Ben seemed to stop himself from saying something, instead sighing, “We’re good,”  
“Good.” There was nothing else to stay but you didn’t want to hang up.   
Neither did Ben, it seemed, both of you just standing in silence. You could hear faint music playing on his end, like it was coming from another room. Maybe he was in his kitchen, leaning against the bench, the radio on in the next room over. Or maybe he was sitting on his couch, the TV down low so the repetitive game music wouldn’t disturb your conversation. You could see him so clearly, sitting in his usual seat, controller abandoned beside him. You wondered if he could tell where you were.   
“I guess I should go then,” He said softly, “I’ll talk to you soon.”  
“Bye Ben,”  
“Bye cud- Y/N.”

“How’d it go?” Felicity asked when you came back inside.  
“Alright. We’re gonna take a break from seeing each other so much and sort out how we feel and stuff.”  
“That sounds good,”  
“Yeah,” you felt relieved at having had the conversation but it was mixed with a weird sadness you couldn’t put your finger on, making you feel vaguely like you wanted to be sick again.  
“Why don’t you go lie down for a bit. I’ll hang out and then tonight we can order pizza and watch cat videos or vine compilations or something dumb like that.”  
“You don’t have to stay, I’m fine.”  
“Hun, I’m staying. Maybe I’ll take a run to the shop, pick up some ice cream and booze and face masks. Sound fun?”  
“Definitely,”  
“Alrighty then, it’s a plan.”  
You felt slightly cheered by the thought as you made your way to your room and fell onto the bed, not bothering to change or move the covers, but it didn’t stop room from blurring with tears as soon as you were alone.

Keeping the distance between you and Ben was a mixed bag. On one hand not seeing each other meant there was no lingering pressure of another date or photo opportunity weighing on you. But on the other it also meant a queue of TV shows you felt unable to watch since you’d started them together. You didn’t have to worry that Ben would suddenly call you or rock up on your doorstep, unable to keep his affections to himself any longer. But you also missed out on random messages asking if you could remember that song (“you know the one it was from the early 2000s. Went something like…,”) or the way he’d chuck popcorn at you from the other side of the couch until you managed to catch some in your mouth. It gave you a chance to relax without worrying you were leading him on, or that you’d say the wrong thing, or that the rules you’d come up with would be broken. But that was because you barely spoke to him. Your communication was kept to text messages whenever something big happened and not much more. Ben sent you a message when he got a call back for one of the movies he’d auditioned for. You texted him when your neighbour’s dog had puppies, partly because they’d asked if you knew anyone who could adopt one when it was a little bigger, but partly because the second you saw the babies you thought of how much he’d love them. And yes, you were sleeping better without so much pressure and anxiety, but it hadn’t stopped Ben from appearing in your dreams and even daydreams, explicitly so more often than you were willing to admit. Then of course there was the bombardment of emails from family and friends checking in on you after they’d seen the video. It got so out of hand you’d had to make a rare post on your private Facebook account letting them know things were fine, just to get them to stop harassing you. But you couldn’t stop the harassment you were getting from strangers on all your other social media pages. You got into the bad habit of checking all the big gossip mag websites for stories about you, following them with as much fervour as any fan might. Ben must have had some paparazzi taking up residence on his street too because you saw countless pictures of Ben going about his day – out with friends, walking to Tesco, smoking outside a pub. And every time there was some story attached either about how heartbroken he was or about how he was sneaking off to meet you in private. You coped the same treatment, though sometimes with the added twist of announcing you were pregnant. All it did was make you wish you could have a hug from Ben and talk about it with him. You came very close to buying a pack of cigarettes one day, just so you could burn one and have its scent linger around your house like Ben had brought it in with him. Felicity was brilliant. She found amusement in the unfamiliar photographers, especially when an article appeared with photos of you and her hugging on your doorstep, speculating you’d moved on from Ben already. It wasn’t so surprising that she’d snuck her way into the magazines she so loved to read considering she checked in on you a lot in the first few days. But, as much as you loved her, and as much as she made you laugh, she had her own job and partner to think about and she couldn’t quite grasp what was happening the same way Ben could have. You missed him more than you thought you would, even with all the baggage from his unrequited crush. So much so that the realisation your makeup date was approaching had you grinning as you made your morning coffee, humming the song from his mug.

It was a surprise, though not an unpleasant one, to hear your phone ringing at close to nine the night before the date. You were sitting in bed playing solitaire on your laptop when your ringtone interrupted. Ben was apologetic as he greeted you, repeatedly saying sorry for calling at all.  
“It’s okay Ben, I really don’t mind.” You said, putting the laptop aside and relaxing back against the pillows.  
“Are you sure? I should have just emailed you.”  
“Ben, stop. I’m glad you called. I’ve missed hearing your voice.”  
“You have?”  
“Of course I have. I spent two and a bit months doing nothing but listen to you blab, you really think I’d just forget you?”  
You could hear his smile when he continued, “I’ve missed talking to you too. I figured this would be a good excuse.”  
“This being?”  
“Tomorrow night. Peter said he’d send you the info.”  
“Of course, yeah I got his email. Tomorrow night, meeting at _Boucher_ at seven.”  
“Yup, that’s the info.”  
“I was told to dress up and be prepared to smooch.”  
“Did he say smooch?”  
“No,” you laughed, “His phrasing sounded a lot stuffier and careful not to create a lawsuit, but I figured that’s what he meant.”  
“Yeah, um, you’re okay with that?”  
“Absolutely. It’s a makeup dinner and we’re going to be together for another couple of months so we should play up the romance and the um, physicality and all that.” You tried to ignore the sudden warmth in your cheeks and the memory of your last dream.   
“Okay, good because I was specifically told about what happens when we leave the restaurant.”  
“Hmmm I think I remember something about that but again, stuffy non-lawsuit language. Kinda hard to follow at times.”  
“Basically they want us to make out while we wait for an Uber. Like, proper make out.”  
“Oh,”  
“I told them neither of us are public make out people but they’re insisting they need it. Something about it being an obvious indication of getting back together or whatever. And technically we agreed to it when we signed up for this whole thing.”  
“Thanks for the heads up.”  
“No worries. Glad I called now, wouldn’t have wanted to just spring that on you. But um, that’s it really, I’ll let you get back to your last night of peace.”  
“Wait,” you blurted without having anything else to say.  
“Yeah?”  
“Ummm, oh! Did you hear anything more about that movie?”  
“Not yet but Peter said they’re still in talks. Hopefully soon.”  
“What’s it about?”  
“It’s an actiony thriller thing. This guy, the role I auditioned for, witnesses a murder and then gets dragged into this revenge mission. I’d get to shoot some big guns and drive a cool car and y’know save the girl, all that stuff.”  
“Sounds fun,”  
“Yeah, what about you, any auditions?”  
“One or two but nothing’s come of them. I sent my reel in for this supernatural comedy about a coven of witches. Too soon to know anything though.”  
“Well I hope you get it,”  
“Yeah, likewise.”  
“Thanks.”  
You were forcefully reminded of your last conversation when you both lapsed into silence again, neither of you making any move to hang up. You wanted to keep talking but part of you was worried that if you used up all your conversation topics now, you’d have nothing to talk about over dinner tomorrow, and if that happened you were bound to blurt out something you shouldn’t. Instead you just savoured the sound of Ben’s breaths and the odd rustle of clothing as he shifted around. Once again he was the one to break the silence.  
“Well, as lovely as it has been to chat, I should go. Gotta get a good night sleep so I’m ready to woo you tomorrow.”  
“You’re not going to bed yet are you? It’s so early,”  
“I was gonna read or something for a bit actually.”  
“Have you finished that show we started?”  
“Which one?”  
“Any of them?  
“No. Figured they could wait.”  
“You wanna watch one now?”  
“What, over the phone?”  
“Yeah, we can try to time it so it plays at the same time.”  
“Uh, sure, why not,”  
You quickly grabbed your laptop and, after some discussion of which show you were more in the mood for, found the right episode. There was laughter on both ends of the line as you attempted to hit play at the same time, counting down from three between giggles. It took you a few tries but you eventually got them to sync up, more or less. It felt nice to hear Ben’s laughter again, his voice when he sang along with the soundtrack, his comments about the nitty gritty of the production side – odd line deliveries and angles of shots. He was easy to talk to. Though with everything that had happened, everything you knew, just the act of talking to him set off butterflies in your stomach.

It took you well over an hour to get ready for the date. You’d been told to go all out so that’s exactly what you did. With a little help from Felicity so you could get away with a calming pre dinner drink. She gave you a hand choosing an outfit – a dress, short but not too short, classy but eye catching. It had started life as a dress for a movie premiere but after a few years the top didn’t fit quite right so you’d had it altered, the skirt was taken up, cut off and attached to a new top that more suited your current style, leaving you with a slightly shorter and much more _you_ outfit. Glass of Prosecco close to hand, Felicity worked on your hair and offered advice on your makeup. When you were finished and could reveal the full look to her, she squealed.   
“You’re absolutely going to get laid.”  
“Shut up. I look alright though? Lipstick’s not too dark?”  
“Honey, you look gorgeous. I swear, you’re gonna get dicked down in the bathroom of that fancy as fuck restaurant because he’s not gonna be able to keep his hands off you.”  
You burst out laughing, “Good to know. Not exactly the plan for the evening but at least I’m prepared now.”  
“What is your plan?”  
“I don’t really have one, which is not helping me stay calm. I guess just find out if he’s still interested in me. And then work out where we go from there. We talked last night and that was good but I just need to know if he’s, you know, still into me.”   
“He’s head over heels for you, that won’t have changed. The question is, do you love him?”  
You wanted to say no but obviously couldn’t so you settled for a soft, “I’ve have missed him.”  
She hummed with an annoyingly knowing look.   
“I should be going, the Uber’ll be here soon.”  
Felicity pulled you into a hug, “Knock him dead, Y/N,” and then, as an afterthought added, “don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”  
“You first hooked up with your girlfriend because some drunk guy told you he’d buy you both drinks if you made out. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do.”  
Felicity laughed, “That was just a free drink, imagine what I’d do if there was a fancy French dinner involved.”

You arrived before Ben did. A quick glance up and down the street told you he wasn’t approaching just yet, so you opened your clutch to give yourself something to think about other than the sound of snapping cameras. Phone, lipstick, tissues, compact mirror, three condoms. You laughed to yourself when you saw them and made a mental note to lie about how useful they were when you next saw Felicity. Quick footsteps caught your attention and you looked up in time to see Ben running towards you.  
“Sorry, I’m late,” he said between breaths, pressing a kiss to your cheek as soon as he was within reach, “My Uber got caught in traffic and I had to make a stop,” He held out a small bouquet of flowers in a variety of pinks, purples and yellows.  
“For me?”   
“No for the other girl I’m seeing, of course for you. You like them?”  
“They’re beautiful,” you took the bouquet and breathed in its sweet scent.  
“I saw it in the shop and, um yeah, I don’t know, they seemed nice, a-and I know you, um, like nice things, so,” he stopped babbling with a pained expression on his face, for once more visibly nervous than you.  
“It’s very sweet of you, thank you,”  
“I’m glad you think so because right now it feels kinda cliché and cheesy. Now you have to carry them around all night, what was I thinking? And god can I just shut up. Sorry.”  
You couldn’t help but laugh as he scrunched his nose up and ran his hand through his hair, unintentionally endearing, “Calm down, Ben, we’ve done this before.”  
“I know,”  
“Let’s just go inside, further away from these cameras, and have a drink, sound good?  
“God yes,” he nodded and let you lead him through the door up to the hostess stand, managing to pull himself together enough to give her the name of the booking. As expected, she told you to wait in the bar until a table was ready.

Ben downed his first drink in one hit. It made you wonder how hard he was finding it to be around you. Had the space helped him quiet his feeling for you? Or had it just made him want you more? Was that why he seemed so out of sorts, stumbling over his words in a way that was so unlike him. You desperately wanted to find out where he stood but it was impossible without giving yourself away. What you needed was for him to make another phone call you could overhear but the likelihood of that happening was slim. You’d just have to put it from your mind for now.   
“Better?” You asked Ben as he caught the barman’s attention and ordered a second drink.  
“Getting there,” He took the new glass and drank, just a sip this time, “You look stunning by the way. I should have said it earlier,”  
“Thank you, you look very handsome,”  
He glanced down at the suit he was wearing, “Thanks.”  
A somewhat awkward silence followed.  
“So,” you said, louder than necessary, desperate to get him talking like he normally did lest you start to freak out too, “You been here before?”  
“No. Never even heard of it before Mary and Peter mentioned it. You?”  
“Same.” You looked around the room, searching for something else to talk about, “Nice though.”  
“Yeah, yeah, really swanky.”  
“Bit different from the painting thing,”  
“Yeah, very. Look I need to tell you someth-”  
“Mr Hardy? Your table is ready,”  
You smiled at the hostess, as he thanked her, and followed her towards a table for two, setting your bouquet down to the side.   
Ben smiled at you from across the table.  
“You were saying?” you asked, apprehensive and curious.  
“Oh, um, nothing, doesn’t matter. We’ve got a date to focus on.”  
“Wouldn’t want all these prying eyes to miss anything,”  
“Exactly. Cuddle bunny,”  
You smiled at the nickname despite its ridiculousness and leaned forward in your seat slightly, letting your fingers gently rest against the back of his hand. If he wanted to focus on the date and putting on a good show for the public then that was something you could do, “Babe.”   
The flush you’d seen creep onto Ben’s face before appeared again and he reached for his glass once more.   
“So, how have you been?” you asked, pulling your hand back towards you.  
He looked at its retreat and then back at your eyes, “Good. Got to hang out with the boys a few times last week which was really good.”  
“Beat them at any more video games?”  
“They won’t let me anywhere near FIFA at the moment,”   
“Discrimination,”  
“That’s what I tried to tell them!” he laughed, seeming to relax a little more, “bunch of babies.”  
“What about that trip thing you were organising, have you sorted that out?”  
“Not entirely. It’s with my friend Joe who lives in the States. He was going to come out here but we decided it wasn’t worth it since I’ll be over there soon anyway.”  
“You will?”  
“Well both of us will be. Part of the press stuff for _The Perfect Match_.”  
“Oh, right, of course,” you giggled and tucked your hair behind your ear.  
“He’s looking forward to meeting you though.”  
“I bet he is,” you said automatically. Of course he’d be keen to meet the woman his friend was infatuated with, you would be too. Ben gave you a questioning look but you covered well enough, “I mean, he’d obviously know about us dating so I assume he’d be curious to meet your girlfriend. Especially if we’re having public spats and stuff.”  
“Right, yeah, definitely. What about you? What’s been happening?”

From there you fell into your usual style of conversation, both of you relaxing more as the night wore on and the bottle of wine you ordered grew emptier. The only difference from normal was the romance of it all, played up as much as possible. Brushing hands as you both reached for the salt, soft smiles and laughs. You even went so far as to twirl a strand of hair around your finger like some love struck teenybopper in a soap opera. When your food arrived you let Ben feed you a bite off his fork. You offered a taste of your meal in return and he held your wrist as he leaned in. A gesture that left you breathless, blinking at him as he slowly withdrew his hand. The wine’s fault probably. You’d polished off the bottle by the time dessert arrived, on top of the drinks you’d had before you sat down. It made you feel looser and you assumed the same of Ben, judging by how different his demeanour was to the nervous, stuttering one he’d had when he showed up. Perhaps that was why, with a spoonful of chocolate mousse halfway to his mouth and no regard for the conversation you were having, he suddenly said, “Can I ask about these last couple of weeks?”  
“Uh, yeah, what d’you want to know?”  
“Was it good? The space, did you get what you wanted from it?”  
You thought for a moment, putting down your own spoon, “Yes. I’m not going to lie and say it wasn’t helpful because it really was. Just, having that break from everything. I think I really needed it. But I really really missed you too.”  
He smiled at that, looking down at his dessert like he was trying to hide it, “I’m glad. It was hard not seeing you but yeah, helped me figure some stuff out too. Confirmed some other stuff.”  
“Like what? If you don’t mind me asking.”  
“Like…um, the thing I said on the phone about enjoying playing the boyfriend. I like having someone special to share things with,” He sighed, “But that’s…not relevant right now. Do you want to get out of here?”  
You were a little taken aback by the suddenness of the suggestion but agreed, reapplying your lipstick for the cameras while the waiter collected your bill.

Ben wrapped his arm around your waist once you were outside, pulling you close. With the pretext on planting a kiss on your temple he quietly asked if you were ready for the next part.   
“Lay it on me,” you giggled, feeling warm and light.  
A second later his hand was sliding down your side towards your bum which set off another wave of giggles. He kept you close as you walked down the street, oblivious to the flash of cameras. Ben kept his arm around you, using the other to open the app and order a car. You stopped when you reached a quiet bus stop, Ben letting you go to sit down, tapping the spot beside him. But his hand wasn’t gone for long, instead moving to cup your cheek as he pulled you into a kiss.   
“I missed doing that,” he muttered but you were more focused on making it happen again, shifting yourself closer, laying your hand against him, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. His heart was pounding under your palm, but it matched the beat against your own chest. You’d forgotten how good he was at kissing but it came flooding back as you opened your lips for him, felt his tongue against yours. His hand was firm on your back, pulling you in but still not close enough. You whined, let him pull you onto his lap, pressed yourself against him, one hand in his hair so he wouldn’t stop kissing you. His hands were everywhere, on your arms and back and squeezing your arse, holding you in place as you arched your back slightly and kissed him harder.   
A car horn right beside you made you pull away, startled.  
“Ben?” The older man asked, looking down at their phone, “I’m here to pick you up.”  
“Shit,” Ben said softly, and then to the driver, “Sorry, yes, that’s us.”  
You let your head fall forward onto his shoulder for a second, smothering your laughter.   
“C’mon cuddle bunny,” he said softly, “they’ve had enough of a show.”   
Your legs felt unsteady as you stood and smoothed your skirt down. Ben opened the back door for you and followed you inside.   
“So sorry about that,” he said again to the driver.  
He just laughed, “It’s alright. I remember being your age and completely smitten. You’re that couple I’ve seen online, right?”  
“Uh, yes, that’d be us, I think”   
“Well if you wanna keep making out I won’t stop you. Might have to tweet about it though.”  
Ben laughed, “Thanks but I think we can hold off for a bit.”  
You looked over at Ben and had to cover your mouth to keep from laughing too loud when you saw the lipstick smudged over Ben’s face.   
“What is it?”  
Still laughing you handed ben your compact mirror and the pack of tissues from your clutch.  
“Christ,” he said softly, “The internet’s going to fucking love this.”

The Uber driver left you at the end of Ben’s driveway with a wink and a _have fun_. There were paparazzi waiting for you so you grabbed Ben’s hand and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. He led you inside, refusing to let go of your hand even while trying to dig his keys from the opposite pocket. Once you were inside, you placed your slightly bruised bouquet on the hall stand, leaned against the closed door and began taking your shoes off. Normally, after being out together and winding up at Ben’s place, you’d head straight to the bathroom to take off your makeup. He’d go and fetch two glasses of water if you’d been drinking or maybe something warm if the night was cool. You’d change into the pyjamas you kept at his place and then join him in the lounge room, sometimes tucking yourselves under the same blanket, to watch TV until you were yawning and struggling to stay awake. And then you’d wish each other good night and head to your separate rooms. But this time something felt different. You kicked your shoes to the side of the hallway and stayed against the door, watching as Ben pulled his wallet from his pocket, dropping it and his keys next to your flowers. He slowly turned towards you, taking a step closer. And you knew you should move, should dodge around him, make a joke about not needing to take off your makeup since he’d already done it for you but you found yourself stepping towards him too. There was a beat as you both realised how close you were. You heard Ben swallow, watched his eyes move to your lips unashamedly. Later, when you were lying in the dark wondering what the fuck had happened, you’d tell yourself it was the wine. A brief impairment of judgement exacerbated by months of celibacy and an easily suggestable brain. Whether you believed it was another question.

You closed the gap but he was only a second behind, hand back on your waist as his other found your jaw. You wrapped your arms around his neck, let him slowly walk you through the house towards the living room you where you’d spent so many nights joking around. He didn’t stop kissing you while you stumbled through the house, not unless he had to and even then he never went far, his breath hot against your lips. You pushed him down onto the couch and straddled his lap, continuing what had been interrupted, his hands falling back to your arse, pushing up your skirt, squeezing, as you tugged on his hair, making him groan. A single rational thought was trapped in the back of your mind, trying to breakthrough but it was hard to think when Ben was holding you like that, kissing you like that, especially after so long without being touched at all. He broke away to mouth at your throat and it was only then that you had enough time to think clearly.   
“Wait,” you said softly and then again more insistently.   
“What is it?”  
“What are we doing? We can’t,”  
“Why not?”  
You shook your head, and pushed yourself off of him, taking a couple of steps back, “It’s rule one Ben,”  
“We wouldn’t even have to break rule one though, we can just stay here on the couch. No harm in making out if we’ve already done it.”  
A whine caught in your throat and you took an extra half step back to keep from rushing into his arms again, more rational thoughts pushing through the broken wall and joining the first. You shouldn’t, not if there was any chance Ben still had a crush on you. It wouldn’t be fair.  
“I’d be good to you Y/N, you know I would,”   
You shook your head, “You know this isn’t real, right Ben?”  
“Of course I know that,”  
“Really? Because sometimes I think you forget I’m not actually in love with you.”  
What’s that supposed to mean?”  
You bit your lip to try and stop yourself from saying what you were about to say but it was no use, the words were already half out, “I heard you talking to Joe the night you left your keys at the bar. I know you have a crush on me.”  
“You heard that?” His eyes were wide, horrified.  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overhear I just needed a drink an-.”  
“Oh my god,” He sat up straighter and ran a hand through his hair again and you wished it was your fingers mussing it up, “Maybe you should go.”  
“Wait, Ben, let’s just talk about it.”  
“Is that why you were upset before the argument? Is that why you didn’t want to see me for the last two weeks?”  
“I thought some space might help you stop feeling that way.”  
He laughed at that, “I’m – I’ve been trying to stop feeling like this for months now, since we were filming together, but I can’t, I can’t shake you. I love you. And it won’t go away.”  
“You _love_ me?”  
Ben nodded, looking up at you from the couch but you couldn’t meet his eye.   
“You don’t have to say you don’t feel the same, I know.”  
You didn’t know what to say, just stood there, frozen in place.   
“That’s what I thought,” He stood up, chewing on his lip and when he spoke he had to clear his voice to make it loud enough for you to hear, “I, um, I know I just said you should leave but you can’t go yet. There are still paparazzi out there and we’re meant to look like we’ve made up. I’m going to go to bed though and you can stay until they leave or, if you can still stand to look at me, then you’re welcome to stay the night and I’ll drop you home in the morning. I’m really sorry.”  
You watched him walk towards the hallway, still frozen in place.


	5. Just Go With It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben's confession left you stunned but how will it effect your overseas trip to promote the movie? Especially when you have to share hotel rooms with him. And will you let him talk you into meeting the one other person who knows the whole truth of your situation?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally going to have another bit at the end but, once again, I prove how bad I am at estimating word count lmao

It felt like hours before you could move though the clock on your phone insisted it was only minutes. Ben was right, you couldn’t leave. But you also weren’t sure you should stay. So you dithered on the spot. The notion of sneaking out the back, though people’s yards until you were clear of the paparazzi’s notice popped into your head, but it wasn’t really an option. For one thing your dress was not made for sneaking, not that you could have pulled it off even in a full cat-burglar costume. You took a step towards the doorway but there was nowhere for you to go so you moved back to the couch and sat, perched on the edge. Right where Ben had been moments before. The seat was still warm. You stood up again. Doing nothing was worse than trying to decide what to do, so you began pacing. One end of the room to the other, trying to clear your mind enough to come up with a plan but not enough to think about what Ben had said. You lost yourself in the rhythm of your movement, the soft pad of your bare feet on the wooden floor, the slide as you turned on the ball of your foot and then the steps again.  
“Y/N,”  
Ben’s voice startled you to a standstill, the sudden lack of footsteps louder than the pacing had been itself. You turned to face him slowly. He looked smaller than normal. There was a spot on his lip that had clearly been bleeding, torn as he worried it with his teeth. His brow was creased, his mouth turned down. Still in the same clothes, though they were ruffled, probably partly your fault.  
“Hi,” it was all you could think to say.  
“I heard you pacing.”  
“Sorry, I’ll keep the noise down.”  
“No, that’s not- it’s okay. I just thought, since we’re both clearly awake and since they,” he gestured vaguely towards the front door, “haven’t left yet, I thought you might like a cuppa.”  
“I didn’t think you drank tea,”  
“I don’t really, but you do.”  
You nodded and follow him toward the kitchen, though there was still the urge to run. Ben busied himself pulling out mugs and sugar and milk, boiling the kettle, as you took a seat at the counter. He didn’t say anything more until he was standing on the opposite side of the bench, your mugs between you.  
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”  
“I get why you wouldn’t have wanted to. I wouldn’t have wanted to either.”  
“Yeah but still,” he took a breath and stared into his mug like there was some sort of answer hidden in it, “I know you’re thinking of leaving as soon as that lot have cleared out but please don’t. I promise I understand where you’re at and I’m not going to try and convince you or to chase you or anything like that. I really am trying not to feel this way.”  
He looked so worried and sad that before you could second guess yourself you reached across the bench and lay your hand over his, “It’s okay Ben, I know you wouldn’t. I just wasn’t expecting you to drop the L bomb.”  
“Please don’t hate me,” his voice was heartbreakingly soft and his eyes were pleading, shimmering with near tears, and if you hated anything it was that he could think such a thing.  
“I could never.” You knew exactly what you’d do, how you’d comfort him, if this was about anyone but you. But it was about you and you weren’t sure if it would be overstepping or making things worse to do it, “Can I hug you?”  
As soon as you saw him nod you were off your chair, around to his side of the bench, wrapping him up in your arms. His shoulders shook and you felt the damp of tears against your neck, but you didn’t mind, you just hugged him tighter.

You had to tell him to shut up after he’d let you go and immediately begun apologising for it. He smiled a small half-smile and nodded, letting out a slightly shaky breath.  
“We should get some sleep.”  
“Probably,” he sighed, “Does that mean you’re staying?”  
“If you don’t mind.”  
“Of course not,”  
Truthfully you felt too exhausted to think about going anywhere. You wished Ben goodnight and headed towards his spare room, that had really become your room, as he was filling a glass with water. With a start you remembered the flowers he’d given you and backtracked towards the front door to get them. They weren’t in great shape, slightly wilted, some stems bent more than they had been when they’d been given to you. All the same you picked them up, carried them back to the kitchen. Ben had gone but there was a tall glass jar on the drying rack that he must have been intending to recycle which made a fine enough vase. You carried them carefully back to your room and placed them on the bedside table before you changed and turned out the light.

The next morning neither of you brought up what happened. He was already awake and cleaning up after his breakfast when you got up and stumbled into the kitchen. You paused in the doorway, but he turned and gave you a single nod and asked if you wanted a coffee. There was an unspoken agreement to pretend that everything after you got out of the car at his place hadn’t happened. You were both tired and drained, but it was easier to write it off as a small hangover than admit to what had actually kept you up late. And, though there were a few slightly awkward moments, slip of the tongue phrases and hesitant touches that might have led somewhere if you let them, it wasn’t hard to fall back into your regular routines as if nothing had changed. The next month passed more or less incident free. You saw Ben as much as you ever had but it was never under the instruction of your agents, just spur of the moment trips to cafes or casual visits to each other’s places while neither of you was working. The tabloids were all over you anyway, there was no need to organise special dates or anything like that. You just made sure to let them see small intimacies that they could read as romantic – fond looks across tables, hands resting close enough to touch. Generally, away from the cameras, you maintained a respectful distance, the only acknowledgement of what had happened that night. Occasionally you allowed yourselves to get closer, a warm hug when Ben found out he’d got the part in the action movie he’d auditioned for, him brushing hair off your face as you sat in the sun reading. Whenever it happened you were left with a tightness in your chest and the overwhelming urge to kiss him again. It confused you, the way just thinking about him made your heart beat faster, how you couldn’t stop thinking about what it had been like straddling his lap with his hands squeezing you under your skirt. If you’d put your symptoms into google it would have turned up pages of information about crushes and compatibility, but that couldn’t be right. You couldn’t actually fancy Ben. Yes, okay, maybe there was _some_ attraction there, but he was an attractive guy and you weren’t blind. You’d known he was handsome since you first saw him at the audition for Edith but that didn’t mean you wanted to jump his bones. It didn’t mean there was any substance to the thoughts. It had to be the job playing tricks on you. Afterall, it had been months since you started pretending to date him, months without so much as considering another person. Your brain was suggestable at the best of times – the nights you’d spent thinking about sleeping with Ben were testament enough – but now, with the knowledge that he was in love with you and having gone so long without anyone else’s affections, it was no surprise you were getting confused. And then there were the rules. Behaviours you’d ruled out. You’d broken about half of them just in the one night. You really only had Rules 5 and 1 still intact. No families, no sex. And humans were infamous for wanting what they couldn’t have. You couldn’t have sex so that’s why you kept thinking about fucking Ben. It wasn’t that you actually wanted to fuck him. It was just the situation, a combination of weird circumstances making you, for want of a better word, yearn for him. If only you could talk about it with someone. You were sure if you just talked though it with someone other than your own idiot brain you’d be able to prove it was situational, for sure. But Ben was the only one you wanted to talk to about it and he was absolutely off limits. It would just get his hopes up, make it harder for him to move on and eventually crush him when you turned out to be right. So you kept a polite distance. 

The most interesting thing to happen all month was an in-person meeting with Ben, Peter and Mary to discuss the plans for the promotional tour. If either of them sensed anything was amiss between you, they didn’t mention it. Instead they spent the meeting raving about the success of the story and outlining what was to happen next.  
“Obviously, you’ll need to share hotel rooms.”  
“Is that really necessary?” Ben asked, glancing over at you.  
“Well you have to admit it would look odd if you didn’t, but I understand the concerns.” Peter said, though he’d have no way of knowing the full reason for Ben’s reluctance “You don’t have to worry though. The suites you’ll be in will have a secondary roll out bed that stores under the main one or, if that isn’t comfortable enough, there’ll be a couch as well.”  
“You’ll also be doing all your interviews together, aside from a couple of phone interviews that will be one on one and a few larger ones with the rest of the cast. The others will be either paired off or in a group for their part of the promotions. Except Claudia, who has a conflict in her schedule that means she won’t be able to join you in the US.”  
“So, it’ll start here with appearances on a few breakfast TV shows and then a day spent meeting journalists from magazines, newspapers and some entertainment blogs. Then you’ll head out to New York. We’ll email your flight details through to you, but it’ll be an early flight, first class naturally. You’ll have the day you land to yourselves to get settled but it also gives us extra time in case of delays with the flight. After that it’s back to business. Day one is another junket with various American publications and websites. You’ll have to take a few photos but mostly it’ll just be the interviews. The next couple of days are the same but it’ll all be recorded to post online. There’ll be more specific interviews that are a bit spaced out but I’ll get to them in a minute. After you’re done in New York then you have another flight to LA where the process will be pretty much the same. So, specifics. You’re booked to do a few radio interviews in both cities, as well as some more online content.” Peter checked his notes, “The puppy and thirst tweet interviews with Buzzfeed, the autocorrect interview with Wired and also something with Vanity Fair,”  
“Career timelines. One from each of you, filmed on the same day.”  
“Thank you, Mary, anything else?”  
“Vanity Fair also want a sit down interview with the both of you for their website. Plus we’ve got you onto James Cordon and Jimmy Fallon so you’ll have to record those episodes. And then, once you’re back home there’ll be a few more interviews for youtube channels and the like, and GQ are lined up to talk with Ben. It could be a cover; we’re waiting on confirmation. And I think…that covers it,” she snapped her notebook shut.  
“What sort of questions are going to come up?” you were curious how much of your romance was going to be off limits to the interviewers.  
“We don’t know specifics but you’re likely to be asked things like how this role was different to others you’ve done, um, what the director was like,”  
“No, I get that. I more meant questions about _us_.”  
Mary thought for a moment before she spoke, “There will of course be some questions relating to your relationship but nothing that any other couple wouldn’t want asked. It’ll be kept to respectful, non-intrusive questions about how you met and working with each other. If any questions are raised that you don’t want to or can’t answer you can always say you’d rather not talk about it.”  
“You’ve got nothing to worry about. The thing is, if we let anyone ask anything that would be considered too personal, everyone is going to work out that this isn’t real. So it’s in our interests and the studio’s interests, as much as yours, to keep everything above board. Sound good?”  
“Brilliant, thanks.”  
“Any other questions?”  
“Will we have much time off?” Ben asked, “I’ve got a couple of people I wouldn’t mind stopping in to see, if I get the chance.”  
“Of course. There’ll be some off time between interviews later on in the week and you’ll have most nights free. We’d like for you to go on at least one sit down dinner date, just the usual sort of thing, you know the drill. But other than that you’re free to spend the time that you’re not doing publicity however you want.”

The breakfast shows suited Ben more than they did you. He’d always been an early riser. Though even he admitted having to be up by five in the morning more than once in the week was not what he’d have chosen. But they were a good way to ease into the press tour. They never lasted long, and the questions were always easy and always the same. It was an early indication of which questions you’d receive again and again, the ones you were bound to grow board of.  
“So, can you give us a quick rundown of what this movie’s about?”  
“Well we play Andy and Edith who have just gotten engaged and, at the party, decide that, since they’re so good at the whole relationship thing, they should play matchmaker with their friends.”  
“The only problem is the friends don’t necessarily want to play along and it causes some problems for us.”  
The plot rundown was always followed by a short introduction to your characters. Then there was always a question aimed at Ben about how different Andy was to previous rolls he’d played. And then a question for you about what attracted you to the role. If you were lucky you’d get a few about the process of filming but more often than not they seemed to be running out of time and skipped straight to the last questions which always revolved around what it had been like to work with each other and how your relationship transfer to real life. The first time you had to answer it was a little awkward. You stuttered over your words and Ben wasn’t much better, but you got through it and by the time you were asked again you had your answers sorted. As predicted, you were able to pull those same answers out during the first junket day. Occasionally you’d get something different. One of the entertainment magazines did a quickfire quiz with all their interviewees which made a nice change, though you were sure your slow answers were because your brain had turned to mush during all the other repetitive moments. By halfway through the day you and Ben had begun playing games to keep yourselves entertained. You’d make bets for small change over dumb things like what the next interviewer would be wearing or how many times you could use the word _romantic_ in a single interview. A few photos were taken, some just you and Ben, leaning against each other or gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes, some with the other cast members which were fun. They broke up an otherwise fairly monotonous day. But it was only the beginning of what would turn out to be a rather long few weeks.

Felicity dropped you to the airport the morning of your flight, fussing over you as if you were moving to the other side of the world rather than visiting. She gave you a tight squeeze in the drop off zone wishing you luck and promising to collect your mail and water your few houseplants in your absence.  
“Tell that boyfriend of yours to look after you. If anything happens to you it’s his dick on the chopping block.”  
“You’ve not even met the poor bloke,” you laughed, “he wont have any idea why a mad woman is coming after him.”  
“Well that’s on you for not introducing me.”  
“Good thing you’ve got nothing to worry about then.”  
“I know. He loves you too much to let anything happen to you,”  
You had to force yourself to keep smiling at the reminder, still dealing with your mixed-up brain and confused desires. Eventually you managed to extract yourself from Felicity, promising you’d text her as soon as you landed. With a final hug you turned and headed inside. Ben was waiting for you a little inside the door, where you’d agreed to meet, both of you falling into your roles easily for the sake of whoever was watching and taking photos. It wasn’t until you were at security that you could drop hands and breathe freely again. Together you headed to your gate, stopping for coffee along the way, and met up with the rest of the cast, as well as the publicists who were organising the trip, which let you subtly put some space between you and Ben. It was fun, or at least as fun as sitting around an airport could be, and when your flight was called you all got up in an excited babble, making sure everyone had the correct bag and ticket.  
“Now, no funny business you two,” Alfie said pointing a warning finger at you and Ben, “save it for the hotel room.”  
You rolled your eyes and Ben laughed, both of you assuring him there’d be nothing of the sort.  
“Maybe just don’t use the bathroom after them,” Amber suggested with a wink.  
“I think the bigger worry,” you said, “is that Ben’ll try and squeeze in a sneaky smoke. I’ve never seen him go a full twelve hours without one.”  
“Bullshit! She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

Your seat was beside Ben’s in the middle of the cabin and gave you plenty of space to spread out and get comfortable. A wall wrapped almost completely around the two seats to give you some privacy which was nice though you were sure you’d have to endure a few more jokes about what mischief you might be getting up to. But that was a train of thought you definitely did not need to be on. Especially when you literally couldn’t get away from Ben. You shook your head and looked around, waving at a couple of the others as they were led to their own closed off seats, but the image of what might happen were you actually dating Ben stuck. A flight attendant came around offering glasses of champagne as well as pyjamas, slippers and an amenity bag. You gladly accepted the drink, hoping it would help you relax more.  
“You’re not a nervous flyer, are you?” Ben asked quietly.  
“What? Oh, no, definitely not. Just…excited to get going.”  
“Good. I’m not either but I do get a little tense with the landings. So if I like, seem off towards the end of the flight that’s probably why.”  
“Thanks for the heads up,” you laughed, “if it helps I’ll let you squeeze my hand.” You instantly regretted the offer, inwardly cringing, but Ben was gracious enough to pretend he hadn’t heard it. Instead he opened his amenity bag and began examining the contents, pulling out a tube of shaving gel and giving it a sniff. Thankfully, the rest of the flight went smoothly. Ben was the perfect buddy for such a long flight. Calm and prepared, a host of potential time killers packed into his carry-on luggage. Shortly after take-off, he offered you a controller from his Nintendo Switch so you could play a few rounds of _Super Smash Bros_. It caught the attention of the others and you ended up sharing the controllers round in a tournament style battle for victory. A little later he pulled out a magazine of puzzles, inviting you to help him solve crossword clues and crack codes, your heads together as you leaned over each page and bickered about how to spell the answers. But he was also equally happy not talking, letting you do your own thing while he did his. It made you glad he was okay with just being friends. You did love him, just not in the way he meant, no matter what Felicity and your stupid subconscious said, and if you’d had to miss out on everything that came with being his friend because of this one thing, it would have made the whole situation ten times more distressing. It was rough enough as it was. When it came time to sleep Ben raised the privacy screen between your beds. You knew it was for the best and you wouldn’t have argued about it, but you couldn’t help the pang you felt, like you were being shut out. There had been a time when he would have offered to cuddle, even if it was said jokingly. But of course he wouldn’t now. You wished he would though. The discomfort of an unfamiliar bed with all the odd sounds and smells of an airplane made it hard to settle completely, but you wondered whether being able to cuddle Ben as you drifted off wouldn’t have helped. He was warm and familiar, and you associated him with your home as much as his. Perhaps that’s the sort of comfort you needed.

You landed around eight in the morning and were greeted by a couple of drivers which took you straight to the hotel. The excitement came back as you all compared suites, trying to work out who’d got the best one. Yours and Ben’s was the biggest, but only because there were two of you, and it ended up being designated the official party room. Not that you had the opportunity to party much. The first day was mostly spent unpacking and fighting the urge to go to sleep way too early. You and Ben took a walk, hand in hand just in case, to explore the area, making note of nearby bars and restaurants. You’d half been expecting to be swamped since the US was notorious for having particularly intrusive paparazzi but there ended up only being a couple following you, no more than you’d been dealing with back home. Ben made a joke about EastEnders not cracking the American market, but whatever the reason it wasn’t unwelcome. The others joined you, all yawning, for a dinner provided by room service and a quiet drink to toast the trip and the movie that had brought you all together. When they’d all cleared out, headed gratefully to their own beds, you and Ben flipped a coin for who’d get the bed on the first night with Ben winning out. It wasn’t too bad, the roll out bed. Not as soft as the main bed but with how exhausted you felt you didn’t really notice. After that it was down to business. The first few days were all pretty much the same. Wake up, earlier than you’d have liked, always beaten by Ben. Shower, get dressed, head downstairs to grab a coffee and watch Ben eat breakfast, listen to him offer you a bite of his toast and remind you of the importance of the meal, and then back up to your rooms were a black screen and a large print out of the movie poster had been set up behind some chairs. The games you’d began playing with Ben during the first lot of interviews in London continued because it was a quick and easy way to not lose your minds when you had to answer _what drew you to the romantic comedy genre?_ for the hundredth time. A lot of the interviews blurred together but there were a few more memorable moments. One overenthusiastic woman entered the room and immediately began flirting with Ben. He smiled politely and shook her hand but you could see how uncomfortable he was and swung in to rescue him, introducing yourself to her. He whispered a quick thank you as you took your seats but she wasn’t completely distracted.  
“This movie. I’ve gotta say it has everything – I laughed, I teared up, the shirtless scenes,” she fanned her face and laughed, “Y/N, what’s it like working with this man. I mean, he’s gorgeous for a start.”  
You felt Ben tense up a little beside you but lay your hand on his reassuringly as you leaned forward and let out a giggle, “Obviously I agree. I wouldn’t have let him take me out on our first date if I didn’t. Plus he’s a total sweetheart, always knew how to keep moral up when we were shooting late and, professionally speaking, he’s one of the best people I’ve ever worked with. He always had really interesting ways to explore the characters and just made sure we had fun on set. Honestly, I can’t imagine having done this movie with anyone else.”  
“And I think you’re forgetting how gorgeous Y/N is,” Ben said, catching on, “I tell you, this woman looks stunning the second she gets out of bed. And she kept me on my toes for the whole shoot. She gives everything she does 110% and I think you’d have to agree that it shows in the final product.”  
“Aww, thanks babe,”  
“You’re welcome, cuddle bunny.”  
After the woman had left you bust out laughing about how uninformed she’d been about your relationship considering the look on her face. It helped you ignore how warm you suddenly felt. But she was the only uninformed one. Everyone else who came in had at least one question about what it was like to date the person you acted with _. Did it make acting as a couple easier?_ (“A lot of the time, yeah. Although those scenes where we were fighting were a bit tough. I hate seeing her upset.”) _Not to spoil anything but there’s one seen where Ben’s character Andy hooks up with someone else, was that hard to watch?_ (“I mean, we’re actors. We’ve both been doing this for a while and y’know sometimes you have to kiss someone at work. It’s kinda odd but it’s also pretty normal for us and we both understand how it works _.”) Normally we end our interviews with a silly question about who your celebrity crushes are…_ (“I think you could probably work our answers out,”). Thankfully because there were so many to get through they moved quite quickly. You’d be out for lunch before you knew it and then it’d be time for a few more, often with the larger group or sometimes on your own. After the last journalist had left you’d go out for dinner with everyone else and maybe follow it with a drink at a nearby bar if you weren’t too worn out, and then I was back to your rooms to relax and sleep until your alarm woke you the next day to repeat it all over again.

It was a relief when the junkets ended, and you got to break the monotony of it all to record some slightly more interesting interviews. Ben was very little help during the Buzzfeed puppy interview – way too distracted by the balls of fluff climbing over his lap and attempting to lick his face to form a coherent answer to any of the questions. It was a cute sight though, the way his eyes lit up as soon as he met the dogs and how much he was laughing as he rolled on the ground with them. You were on the verge of suggesting you should get a dog when you remembered you weren’t actually living together, trying to clear the image of you and Ben snuggled up on a couch with a napping puppy across his lap. It was a little disconcerting how easily the fantasy had appeared, and it left you feeling out of sorts. If you’d hoped the next segment they had you record would distract you, you were quickly proven wrong. The thirst tweets were fun to read, mostly because you enjoyed making Ben blush so fiercely in payback for not answering anything during the puppy interview, but they could hardly be called a distraction. If anything, they just made you think about what else you could get up to, without the puppy.  
“ _Ben’s lips look like they were made to kiss…and not just on the mouth_. Oh, um, well he is a very good kisser. Very very good. And, that’s all I’m gonna say.” You gave the camera a sly wink, already able to imagine how happy your agents would be and hoping Ben wouldn’t hold it against you. You glanced at him to check and found him covering the flush on his cheeks with his palms.  
He dropped his hands and looked straight at the camera, “God I hope my mum’s not watching. Sorry mum.”  
When you go back to the hotel you wished you had a separate room. The Buzzfeed videos, though short, took most of the day. You had to wait while the puppies were wrangled together and taken away, and then there were all the pauses to set up cameras and check mics were working. Plus you ended up filming a Q&A video about the movie as well. But not once did you stop thinking about Ben and what it might be like to actually date him. By the time you got back to the hotel all you wanted was to be alone for a little to try and sort out what you were feeling and maybe get yourself off. But it wasn’t to be. The others returned shortly after you did and bounced into your room to hang out. You had a few minutes after they went off to freshen up before dinner and Ben jumped in the shower but it wasn’t enough time and it took all of your energy to not think about joining him.

The next day was quieter with just two interviews booked, both with radio stations. You got to sleep a little longer and had a long break between commitments. Ben suggested you use the time to go on the “date” your agents wanted. You posted to your Instagram stories to make it look more legitimate, a selfie of you both on the street and then a shot of your drinks with Ben visible in the background  
“So I’m going to visit Joe tonight,” Ben said, glancing at you over his plate.  
“That’ll be good. How long since you last saw him?”  
“In person? Uhh, seven months I think, maybe a bit longer. But, um, you’re invited if you want.”  
“Me? Why?”  
Ben shrugged, “He wants to meet you.”  
“This is the same Joe that’s been leaving comments on your photos of us as if he’s jealous?”  
“That’s the one,” Ben chuckled.  
“The same Joe I heard you talking to?”  
“Mmhmm,”  
“And he was the one who suggested I come?”  
“Yeah.”  
The idea made you feel a little apprehensive, “Should I be worried?”  
Ben smiled to himself, “Do you want to come or not?”  
“Well I don’t want to intrude.”  
“You wouldn’t be, I swear. We’d just be having a quiet night at his anyway. He’s gonna make dinner or we’ll order something in and we’ll probably have a drink or two but like nothing outrageous. And it’s not a catch up visit because we talk all the time and he already knows everything I’m up to. It’s just a hang out, and probably the first of a few while I’m over here.”  
“You’re sure I wouldn’t be stepping on any toes?”  
“Positive. It was his idea so it’s not like you’ll be crashing.”  
That wasn’t hugely reassuring, but you said yes anyway, kind of curious yourself as to what he might have to say to you. Maybe he’d have something comforting to say about the whole situation with Ben.

That evening’s plans were on your mind for the rest of the day, though you shoved it aside to get through the final radio interview. Thankfully, the two hosts were funny and asked some questions that you hadn’t answered a thousand times already.  
“So, we’ve heard actors like to keep props from movies they work on as, like, souvenirs. Did either of you get to keep anything from _The Perfect Match_?”  
“I did,” you said, “Um, I kept Edith’s engagement ring.”  
“Really? You never told me that,” Ben said, clearly surprised.  
“Well I…shit I might be dropping myself in it here. I kinda didn’t tell anyone I took it,”  
Ben let out a bark of laughter.  
“It wasn’t a real engagement ring,” you hastened to add for the benefit of the audience, “just plastic but I got so used to wearing it and I wore it home on the last day of filming without thinking and I just…never took it back. If any of the crew are listening and have been wondering where it went, I’m sorry.”  
Ben was still laughing, “I can’t believe you stole the ring.”  
“What did you take then?”  
“Nothing,” he said with a shake of his head, “I’m not a thief like you apparently. And I didn’t think to ask for anything.”  
“Well, what would you have taken if you could?” one of the hosts asked.  
Ben thought for a moment, “Is it inappropriate for me to say the body pillow?”  
It was your turn to burst into laughter, “depends which version.”  
“Sorry, body pillow?” Both of the hosts looked at each other excitedly and then back to Ben.  
“Uhh, okay, so, no spoilers but there’s this one scene,” Ben started, “Andy’s a bit down because Edith isn’t there so his friends try to cheer him up by ordering a body pillow with Edith’s image on it.”  
“Yeah, but there were two versions made. The one that’s in the movie and one that was deemed, umm, a little too racy for the rating we wanted.” You could feel your face getting hot but it was partly the struggle not to laugh too much as you turned back to Ben, “So, which would you have asked for?”  
Ben shrugged, “Doesn’t really matter since I got the real thing.”  
The interviewers laughed at that, “Very smooth Mr Hardy,”  
“Clever answer.”  
You laughed and let them move you onto other questions but the thought stuck with you. Had he meant it? Or was it all for show?

Afterwards you returned to the hotel to kill time before you had to be at Joe’s place. Your mind was still racing with thoughts of what had happened during the radio interview and what might happen that night. Thoughts that were not helped by how worked up you were after days of pent up frustration.   
“Did you really take the engagement ring?” Ben asked, knocking you out of your reverie as he sat beside you on the couch.  
“Yeah, it’s sitting in my jewellery box at home.  
“Huh,”  
“What?”  
“Nothing, just uh, kind of funny that I drew it on your mug and you stole the real thing.”  
“Yeah, I hadn’t thought of that but yeah, it is a bit funny.”  
“That thing about the body pillow was a joke, by the way. I wouldn’t have actually asked for it,”  
“I figured. But um,”  
He was sitting so close his thigh was pressed up against you, “Yeah?”  
You shouldn’t say it. It was just because you were horny and he was available and into you and you really shouldn’t say it, “Well, maybe I wouldn’t mind so much if you’d kept it.” You licked your lips, noticing the way his eyes focused on the movement and didn’t shift away.  
“You wouldn’t?”  
“Maybe.”  
“Maybe it wasn’t so much a joke,”  
He was so close you could feel his breath on your face, and you had the desire to lean in and close the distance. You were half a second away from doing just that when Ben shook his head.  
“Fuck.” He leaned back, paused for a second, and then stood up, “We’ve gotta get ready to go to Joe’s.”

When you arrived at Joe’s place he greeted you wearing an old, navy blue apron over a t-shirt and jeans.  
“Benny boy!” he half yelled, throwing himself at the laughing blonde.  
“Hey Joe, this is, alright get off me, Jesus. This is Y/N,”  
“Hi, Y/N,” he said, still grinning as he held out his hand, “Lovely to finally meet you.”  
“Likewise,” you said with a smile, noting the way he glanced at Ben. He led you into the house saying something about checking the dinner and told you to make yourselves comfortable. Ben had no problem with that, heading straight for the fridge and grabbing out three bottles of beer.  
“Y’know you’re mean to eat this pasta with red wine, you uncultured swine,” but Joe accepted his bottle anyway. You took the one Ben offered you, mostly just to give you something to keep your hands busy as you took in the pale walls and clutter covering the benchtop – a mix of vegetable scraps and used dishes. Joe was instantly likeable, putting to rest any worries you’d had about meeting the one person in the world who knew the whole truth of your situation. You’d assumed Ben would have called him after you’d made out, and by the way he kept a close eye on your interactions with Ben you guessed you were right. But that wasn’t too hard to block out and you supposed he had good reason. He asked you questions over dinner, about yourself and your family and your work. And he made plenty of jokes, most of them at his or Ben’s expense. It was clear they’d known each other for a while, just based on how they acted when they were together and you could see why Ben would have confided in him. All around it was a very nice evening. Or it was for the most part.

After dinner, while you were working on a bottle of wine Joe had insisted on opening, Ben excused himself to have a smoke, leaving just you and Joe at the table. As soon as Joe heard the door shut behind Ben he leaned in, more serious than you’d seen him all night.  
“Don’t hurt him.”  
“I’m sorry, what?” you asked, not sure you’d heard right.  
“Ben’s told me everything. I know how he feels about you, I know you overheard him when he was talking to me, I know about the fight and what happened after the makeup date. I know everything. And I am begging you not to hurt him.”  
“I’m not going to.”  
He sighed, tilting his wineglass slightly, playing with the stem, “I’ve known Ben for a few years now. I’ve seen him crushing on someone, I’ve seen him drunkenly flirt with people, I’ve watched him ask someone out and then move on when they said no. I have never seen him this hung up on someone.”  
You went to speak but before you could Joe held up a hand and continued.  
“He’s not going to let on but he is white knuckling it at the moment. He’s been attracted to you since you first met, I have the texts to prove it. The day your situation was proposed he called me, as soon as he’d got home from work. He told me all about it, asked if I’d ever been offered something similar or if I knew someone who had. I didn’t believe him at first but he insisted it was real and asked what I thought. Of course, I told him it was a bad idea if he had any sort of a crush on you. The next day he sent me a message that just said _I fucked up_. I think he’d originally planned to ask you out at the end of the shoot but then he volunteered to torture himself instead.”  
“That’s not my fault,”  
“I’m not saying it is. I’m just trying to help you understand where he’s at because I know he won’t have told you. He’s pretending he’s getting over you, that he’s moved on from whatever weird little hiccup he had. But it’s not true.” Joe paused, turned towards the door, but when he heard nothing he kept talking, “I’ve been watching him all night. The way he talks to you, the way he looks at you. He’s still in love you and this press trip is killing him. Do you like him?”  
“If you’ve heard everything then you already know,” you said, ignoring the way your insides squirmed.  
“I’d like to hear it from you,”  
“No. I don’t like him. Not in that way.”  
Joe watched you intently, frowning, “Are you sure?”  
“Yes,” you said, hoping it sounded more certain than you felt.  
Joe sighed again, “If that’s true then you’ll understand why I wanted to have this conversation. Please don’t toy with him.”  
Your mind jumped straight to that afternoon when you’d nearly kissed him again and you felt guilty, “It might come as a surprise to you but I do actually care about Ben and I really am trying not to overstep or make this harder for him. And it’s not so easy on my side of it either”  
“I know, I can see that. All I’m saying is to be careful. For his sake.”

You were still thinking about the conversation as you lay in bed that night. What exactly had Joe seen in the way you and Ben interacted that made him determined to say something? Why, when you said you weren’t into Ben, had he said _if that’s true_ , like you were intentionally lying about your own feelings? And god the butterflies you’d felt at the suggestion he might have asked you out. What the fuck was that about? Was it because you liked the idea or hated it? Or was it some in between thing where you really hated it but practically living with Ben had clouded your judgement until you thought maybe it’d be okay? You suddenly felt desperate for the trip to be over. At least that way you’d be able to get some personal space back, be able to think without Ben there on the other side of the room all the time. With a sigh you rolled over to face the wall and tried to sleep so you’d be ready for another day of press. The next week and a half was full of interviews with online content creators and radio stations you’d never heard of before. But at least they weren’t as monotonous as the earlier interviews had been. Ben visited Joe again a few times which you were grateful for since it meant he was out of your hair for a while, but you rarely got the time to yourself, the others usually setting up camp in front of the TV in your suite. Then it was time to pack up and fly to LA to start the whole process again. Another two days of junkets and then more spaced out press. You did the autocorrect interview together, took a quiz about romcom quotes on James Cordon's show and ranked your favourite romcoms on the radio. And then it was back to London to finish the publicity. Straight from the airport to a hotel, already set up and waiting so you could meet with some entertainment vloggers who had missed out at the beginning of the tour. You sighed when you realised it was going to be another day of the same old questions and bet Ben that you’d have to repeat the story about almost breaking your leg during the engagement party ten times. He took you up on it but only because he thought it’d be closer to twenty. Ben called in a room service order for coffee and you both crossed your fingers and hoped you’d make it through before the jetlag really kicked in.  
“God you’re lucky you’re done,” Ben said once the last interviewer had left, “I’ve still got fucking GQ tomorrow.” His voice turned into a whine, “All I wanna do is sleep,”  
You had to laugh as he pouted, “Poor Benny,”  
“Yes, poor Benny. I’m so ready to just sleep in my own bed and have a long, hot shower in my own bathroom.”  
“And a wank without being interrupted,” if you’d been less worn out you would have stopped yourself from saying it.  
“All this time I’ve known you and I’ve still not managed to pull your mind from the gutter,” Ben tutted, clearly equally as exhausted since he didn’t even flinch at the suggestion.  
“If anything I’ve pulled you down with me.”  
“You’re a horrible influence,”  
You both fell into laughter, further proof you needed some rest, but it felt good too. You only stopped when one of the publicists came over to let you know you were free to go.  
“Alright, cuddle bunny, I’ll see you later, yeah?” Ben pulled you into a hug.  
“Let me know how GQ goes. I’m gonna get Thai for dinner tomorrow night so if you wanna come chill at mine, that’s totally cool.”  
“Thai sounds really nice,”  
“You don’t have to,” you suddenly realised what you’d offered, “we were just talking about wanting time alone so whatever,”  
“Hanging out with you wasn’t the problem, it was how busy we were. But if we’re just eating takeout and watching Netflix then I’m there.”  
“I’ll make sure to get the large pad Thai then,”  
“I’ll bring the diet coke.”

The trip had given the tabloids a lot to work with. You hadn’t kept up to date with it all while you’d been away because you’d been promoting the movie but, once you got back home, you found yourself checking on them more regularly, filling in the spare time by scrolling through twitter or Instagram. There were photos of you at the airport, photos from the streets of LA, gifs and screencaps from interviews you’d done, posted by fans yelling about how cute you were together. The way Ben had described you to the flirty reporter was reposted over and over with pleading face and heart eyes emojis and comments about finding a man like that. Miniscule looks you’d shared without noticing were slowed down in gif form and posted as proof of how in love you were, how wrong anyone who suggested you might be fake were. By far the most commonly occurring one was the thirst tweet video. You saw it shared over and over and over. You were tagged in fanfics inspired by it, in which Ben ate you out until you were an overstimulated mess. It was odd and you’d never have admitted to reading them but it was definitely entertaining and not too far from some of the things you’d imagined yourself. But going back to living on your own didn’t help your confusion the way you thought it might. You missed seeing Ben every night and every morning, couldn’t stop thinking about what might have happened if you’d kissed him. And you were fast running out of excuses for why. It was one thing to blame the situation when you were sharing a hotel room, practically forced to spend most of your time together, and playing up the relationship for the cameras. But now, in the comfort of your own home, when you and Ben could freely choose when and how often you saw each other, it was much harder to justify how often you thought about him, how badly you wanted to return to that night on his couch and just let it happen. And the more you spent time with Ben, the harder it was to keep from admitting you might actually have been wrong before. Maybe there was something there, though Joe’s words stuck in the back of your mind making it hard to admit it to yourself. You got quite good at telling yourself it was just physical. You loved Ben as a friend and a small part of you wanted to spend the night with him. That wasn’t so unusual. Friends slept together all the time. Maybe if you could sleep with him you could stop thinking about him. Maybe he’d stop thinking he was in love with you too. You laughed at yourself the first time it occurred to you. It was ridiculous and stupid and so unlikely to help…but maybe. Maybe you could make a deal with the universe. Just this one thing and then you could be done with it all.

You came to regret that little notion, came to curse the universe for listening to you. Ben and you had decided to go out for coffee when his phone rang. He excused himself to answer it, leaving you to your slice of brownie as you waited for him to come back. When he did he was frowning.  
“What happened?”  
“Uhh, okay. You remember that,” he glanced around and lowered his voice, “that rule we have about not meeting each other’s families? Yeah, I don’t think we can hold them off any longer. That was my mum. See, there’s this big family reunion next week – and I mean big, like all the cousins and great aunts and uncles and grandparents and fucking everyone. We have one every few years, book out this restaurant slash beer garden for a whole day and basically just have this big family piss up. And, um, when my parents heard I was dating you, they extended the invite to you as well but it was like a few months ago and I said I didn’t think you’d be able to make it but now they’re insisting and I tried to say we weren’t ready to meet each other’s families yet but they’re calling bullshit on that because as far as they know that was part of why we had the fight but then we fixed it and also I might have said I was meeting your parents to get out of a lunch I didn’t want to go to.” He said everything so fast you could barely keep up.  
“Wait, you told them you were meeting my family to get out of a lunch?”  
“Maybe. But that’s in the past Y/N. Our problem is happening next week.”  
“Shit,”  
“Yeah. It’s…I can try and tell them you’re busy that day but I’m pretty sure they’ll just ask again and then we’d be stuck having dinner with just mum and dad and maybe my brother. This way we get it over and done with and if there’s more people we should be able to sneak out earlier.”  
“Yeah, no, that makes sense.”  
“There’s just one other little thing.”  
“What?”  
“Well, my family live a couple of hours away from here and I’d kind of originally planned to stay overnight in my old room because otherwise I’d have to worry about how much I’d had to drink and if I was able to drive back late at night and it’s just easier to stay there and head back the next day.”  
“Oh, well, I mean I don’t mind staying over. Um, would we have to share the bed or…?”  
“Maybe. It’s not like the hotel where we had a whole second bed but I’d be fine sleeping on the floor for a night or we can divide the bed with pillows if that’s easier. I could try looking into other accommodation but Mum’d probably kick up a stink about us paying for it when she’s got a perfectly fine room on offer.”  
“If you’ve already said you’d stay then we might as well stay. Wouldn’t want her thinking I’m so high maintenance I can’t stay one night under her roof now would we?”  
Ben laughed, “I don’t know, it’d stop her from inviting you over again. You swear you’re okay with this?”  
“Yeah. We knew something like this might come up.”  
“Alright, I’ll let her know you’ll be there. And I’ll buy you dinner tonight to make up for it.”  
You smiled and said that was a fair exchange but you’d suddenly lost your appetite.


	6. Picture Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A whole day with Ben's family and no way to escape. How will you survive? And will any rules be left intact by the end of the night?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ARE YA'LL READY FOR THIS? 
> 
> smut scene is marked with a *** so you can skip it if you like.

A week later you were in the passenger seat of Ben’s car, your bags in the back, watching the scenery pass by. You found your eyes drawn to him more often than usual but he didn’t seem to notice. Maybe it was that he was so focused on the road and the traffic around you or maybe it was because you were playing I spy and a few glances from the person who’d spied the object were expected. I spy was a good game. Distracting enough to focus your mind on something other than wanting Ben. For the most part at least.  
“And we can definitely still see it?”  
“Yuuuuuuup,” you popped the ‘p’ and glanced over at Ben again.  
“And it starts with ‘M’ but isn’t ‘Mazda’ like what’s driving behind us, or Mars Bar like what I was just eating?””  
“Nope,” you popped the p again and laughed, “d’you want a clue?”  
“Go on then, otherwise we’ll be stuck like this all day,”  
“We’ve been following them since we got on the motorway,”  
Ben’s forehead creased as he thought about your clue, “Truck doesn’t start with ‘M’,”  
“Clever boy. You deserve a gold star for that one,”  
“Bite me,”  
You laughed and gave in to the temptation to look at him again, noting the crease of his forehead as he thought about your clue, “Should I just tell you?”  
“Fine, I’m never going to get it at this rate,”  
“I spy with my little eye a mudflap girl. Two of them actually,”  
“What the fuck is a mudflap girl?”  
You pointed at the silhouette on the tuck’s mudflaps, “Her. The chick with the stupidly pinched in waist and big knockers.”  
“Is that what they’re called?”  
“What knockers?”  
“No, I’m perfectly familiar with those,” Ben laughed and you whistled teasingly, willing your mind to stop picturing what it was picturing “Shush, I meant the mudflap girls, is that what they’re called?”  
“Yeah. You didn’t know?”  
He shook his head slightly, “Never really came up.”  
“Sorry, would have picked something else if I’d realised,”  
“‘s fine. Just means I won’t hold back with the next one.”  
You’d been a little nervous at the prospect of driving hours with just Ben for company, still coming to grips with the fact you wanted to knock boots with him. You couldn’t even think about it in direct language, just roundabout phrases your mum used to use. But, thankfully, all your concerns had disappeared the moment you got into the car, infected by Ben’s bright smile and insistence that he’d make it fun. His definition of fun was a lot of classic driving games, hence the I Spy, plenty of road trip snacks, and a healthy dose of a specially curated driving playlist. You’d made fun of him for including _I’m In Love With My Car_ on it but he just turned it up louder and sang it at you which only made you laugh more. It stopped any awkwardness or uncomfortable silences in their tracks. But all the laughter and playful teasing was just another reminder of how close you were and that made you think about how badly you wanted to do the dirty with him, hear him whining your name, feel his hands all over you, cuddle up with him and doze as he read to you. You shook your head as the third image sprang to the forefront of your mind. That wasn’t right. Bumping uglies was one thing but dozing was out of the question. Unless it was in a post-coital come down of course. Not that any of it mattered since you weren’t going to act on it. Joe had made it very clear that something actually happening was a bad idea. Although, looking at Ben now he didn’t seem to be that bad off. Certainly not _white knuckling it_ as Joe had said. He was happy and bubbly and you couldn’t see a single sign of him falling apart. What did Joe know anyway? He lived so far away, how could he possibly know what was good for Ben or, for that matter, you.

Halfway there you found a place to pull up so you could stretch your legs and refresh your snacks but then it was back into the car for the second leg of the trip, winding through the traffic until it thinned out and you pulled up outside a nice white house with a tidy yard.  
“This is it?” you asked, the nerves back in full force.  
“Yeah, you good?”  
You just nodded your head but Ben gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, “Remember the plan, yeah? Hold hands as much as we can, look as loved up as possible, just like what we do for the cameras. What’s our story?”  
“Met at the audition for Edith since you’d already been cast. Hung out a lot as prep for the movie. You asked me out a couple of days before filming began and we dated secretly for a while but then, partway through filming, we were caught by paparazzi and decided to be open about it.”  
“Very good. What el- shit, no time for the rest of the pop quiz, the front door just opened.”  
“It’s okay, I’m good. We’ve been doing this for months now, it’s just more of the same.”  
Ben nodded and then let your hand go so he could get out of the car. You opened your door and stepped out, smoothing out your skirt, your hand cold outside of Ben’s grasp. But he fixed the problem, taking your hand again as he led you towards the front door and the person who’d come out onto the driveway. He squeezed your hand again.  
“Hi mum. This is Y/N,”  
“Well it’s about time,” his mum said, already stepping forward to hug you, forcing you to drop Ben’s hand “lovely to meet you, darling.”  
“Pleasure to meet you too Mrs Jones,” you smiled politely as she stepped back.  
“Oh, Angela, please,” her hands were still on your shoulders as she examined your appearance, “Gosh aren’t you pretty.”  
You managed to stutter out a thank you, suddenly feeling much more shy than you normally would have.  
“Oh c’mon mum, let her go.”  
“I’m just saying she’s beautiful, what’s wrong with that?” but her hands fell from you as she turned her attention to Ben, “I still think you’re very handsome too Ben. Need a bit of a haircut though.”  
He rolled his eyes but hugged her all the same.  
“Mikey’s already there setting up with your father and I expect you’ll be giving him a hand soon?”  
“Can I not have five minutes out of the car before I get piled up with chores?” Ben whined as you both followed her inside.

She led you on a brief tour of the house, pointing out where the bathrooms were and coming to an end at Ben’s old room where you’d be staying. She promised you enough time to grab your bags and freshen up before you’d be asked to help and then she headed back towards the front of the house. You peeked inside the bedroom door hoping to see what teenage Ben’s sense of style was but it had since been redecorated.  
“Don’t look so disappointed,” Ben laughed, “Mum had the whole house redone a few years ago and it didn’t make sense to keep my room how it was.”  
“Please tell me there’s photos here somewhere,”  
“Probably but you’re not seeing them,”  
“You have to tell me something, I’m your girlfriend and I need to know.”  
“Fuck off, you do not,”  
“Please?” you extended the word in a childish whine, pouting at him until he broke.  
“What d’you want to know then?”  
“What’d you have on your walls? Band posters?”  
Ben laughed, “Uhhh, a few sports things – my favourite teams and that. Some girls with big tits leaning all over cars…Couple of theatre posters too,”  
“Nerd,”  
“Shut up,” he laughed again, pushing against your shoulder, “Sorry about Mum by the way,”  
“It’s totally fine,”  
“I promise it’ll all be over soon,”  
You were taken aback as he wrapped you up in a tight hug but very happily relaxed against him. Carefully, so as not to break the moment you looked up at him only to find him looking back at you. It was the closest you’d been since the almost-kiss in the hotel. Sure, you’d been close, even hugged before, but not in this long, lingering way and even then, it was mostly just in public.  
A sharp knock at the door made you break apart.  
“Sorry to rush you but Mikey’s just called asking after you. Better get a move on,”  
“Who’s Mikey?” you asked, refusing to acknowledge the tension in the air.  
“My brother, Michael. S’pose we should crack on. You’ve got about twelve bags to pull from the car.”  
“Fuck off, it’s only two and one of them’s a hand bag. Plus, it’s you’re fault for not being more specific about dress code.” You hadn’t known exactly what to pack and got no clear answer when you’d asked, so you’d packed a few different outfit options, from casual jeans and a nice blouse to a slightly more fancy little black dress, the clutch you’d taken to the French restaurant packed with it in case you needed a stylish purse.  
“You’re such a drama queen. Just help me with them yeah?”

You would have known he was Ben’s brother even before you’d heard about him. His face was thinner and his shoulders less broad but they had the same smile, same eyes. He was lovely too, jumped down off a chair and dropped the coil of fairy lights he’d been holding so he could shake your hand and introduce himself. Then came their dad, maybe not quite as warm as their mum but just as welcoming. Both you and Ben were handed lengths of lights and sent off to find places to hang them. Inside it wasn’t necessary since the restaurant was already lit up, staff busting about making sure everything was ready for that afternoon. So Ben led you away from the big open door, into the beer garden. It was mostly paved, small shoots of grass sprouting up through the bricks, though there was also a large strip of grass at the very end of the yard. Ben’s brother and dad were on one side of the yard, securing their lights to the fence so you and Ben headed straight for the grassy end where the light of the restaurant wouldn’t quite reach.  
“Wait here a sec,” Ben said, handing you his coil of lights and turning back towards the paved area. You watched as he dragged on of the sturdy wooden tables over to you. At the first scrape of the wood on the brick he looked inside to see if anyone was going to go mad at him but, aside from his family members, no one noticed. When he finally got it in position, he climbed up onto the table and held out his hand for the lights. You kept lookout as he wound the wire around a tree branch and then jumped down again, handing the end of the lights to you so you could wrap it around the tree trunk and secure the battery pack out of harm’s way, as he pushed the table back into place. It wasn’t long before the yard was covered with lights extending from the doorway all the way to the fence that blocked the yard from the road. Of course, all that work meant you deserved a drink so, by the time Ben’s mum and other family members began arriving in the late afternoon, you were already halfway through your first glass. Ben gave you a running commentary of everyone who walked into the restaurant.  
“That’s my cousin and her daughter. And the couple behind her are my,” he thought for a moment, “Well let’s call them cousin’s too because I don’t know how seconds and removals work. The bald guy over there talking to Mum is my great uncle. And the woman who just waved is an Aunt. Whatever you do, don’t mention her son. He’s had a run in with the law and it’s a touchy subject.”  
“Noted. But shit, when you said family get together you really meant it,”  
“Yeah,” Ben laughed, “The Jones’ don’t do things by halves. ‘Specially not when there’s drinking involved.”

As the place began to fill Ben took you around to meet people. You felt a little like the ball in a pinball machine, bouncing from one person to another, introducing yourself and then moving on to someone else, almost immediately forgetting any names you’d just been told. It was almost like doing interviews again except with more movement and more alcohol. Ben kept a hold of you, either interlocking his fingers with yours or else wrapping his arm around your waist, keeping you close to his side, only letting you go to grab you another drink or light up a cigarette. At one point you had a small crowd gathered beside you, all pointing out things they’d seen in magazines or on the internet about you, all wanting to hear about how you met. Thankfully you’d become quite practiced at telling the story.  
“We met at the audition actually,” Ben said, “I had the part but they wanted to try me with different actresses to find someone that would work well on screen. I’d met, I don’t know, eight or nine women and then Y/N came into the room. She looked kinda nervous,”  
You shook your head in disagreement but Ben ignored you.  
“but we got a chance to say hi before we had to read the lines and we just clicked.”  
“Our director really liked us together so I got a call back and we did another scene,”  
“So they could, y’know, see us kiss, make sure the chemistry was there.”  
“They must have liked it because I got the part. We did a couple of weeks of all this, um, like, bonding stuff. The rest of the main cast was there too but me and Ben had a few one on one things because we were playing a couple that was already engaged so they wanted us to look really connected.”  
“Anyway, I wanted to ask her out after day one but I wasn’t sure if I should because we’d be working together,”  
“I took a little longer to see him in that light but he was so sweet and charming and fun to be around, and by the end of the week I was thinking the same thing. Only neither of us wanted to make the first move because if it wasn’t mutual then it could make the next few months of work really awkward.”  
“Eventually one of the other actors pointed out how into me she was so I asked her out for a coffee and it went from there.” He returned your smile and then pulled you closer into his side, dropping a kiss to the top of your head as you leaned against his chest.  
“Well your casting director knew what they were doing because you two are adorable together.”  
A few more questions followed but eventually Ben was able to extract you from the crowd with the excuse you needed more drinks.  
“Actually, I gotta run to the loo, I’ll bring some food back with me though, okay?”  
“Okay, I’m gonna grab another cocktail, you want anything?”  
“Beer’d be great,”  
“Sure thing, babe,”  
He smiled again as he left you but you were smiling too. There was something fun about the act. Even with everything that had happened and how mixed up and hard it had been at times, an evening like this was fun. He made you laugh and made sure you felt comfortable in what could have easily been an extremely uncomfortable situation. Plus, it meant you got to indulge the part of you that was still fantasising about being with him. You were allowed to kiss him and touch him because you were acting. There was no confusion about why, no worries about if you were crossing the line you’d put down, nothing to stop you from enjoying it. So what if occasionally your fantasies extended beyond just doing the horizontal tango? It wasn’t so bad to think about cuddling up in front of the TV with him.

Drinks in hand you headed back to where Ben had disappeared, trying to spot him in the crowd.  
“Y/N!,”  
You spun round to see who was talking, finding yourself face to face with Ben’s mum again. Angela, you reminded yourself.  
“Come join us over here,” she said leading you to a table where a few others sat, “You’ve met my husband Keith already, yes? And this is Doug and Katherine. This is Y/N, Ben’s girlfriend.”  
You took a seat and chatted with them, glancing around for Ben every so often. Eventually Doug and Katherine got up to talk to someone else and Keith went off in search of more food, leaving you and Angela alone.  
“Now, darling, Ben tells me you’ve got a work thing to get back home for tomorrow so you’ll be leaving a bit earlier than originally planned.” Angela said, patting your hand.  
“Yeah, um, it’s an audition,” you lied. It was a cover Ben had come up with so you didn’t get guilted into staying an extra day.  
“Well that does sound important. I’m sad we won’t have longer to get to know you though. I must admit, I saw a photo of you and Ben a while ago and I was hoping he’d bring you up because you just looked so lovely. And you obviously make him very happy, which is of course what every mother hopes for. So you have to come back soon so we can have a proper chat. Make a weekend of it or something.”  
You were a little taken aback, stunned to hear how much of an impact you’d had without meaning to. It made you feel a bit guilty. This was Ben’s family and you weren’t part of it, you shouldn’t be there. But you swallowed the doubts, tried to ignore how much you wanted it all to be real, and smiled back at her, “I’d love that. Just say when.”  
“Oh now don’t tempt me or I’ll have the date picked out before the end of the night. I don’t want to jump the gun or seem too forward but just seeing how you two are together…I hope you know you’re welcome in our family. Ben loves you a lot, I can tell.”  
“I know. And it’s very kind of you,”  
“I mean it darling. And if the next family get together was your wedding, well….but of course that’s neither here nor there.”  
You laughed it off but your insides were churning.  
“So this is where you got to,” Ben’s voice interrupted as he dropped into the seat beside you and lay his hand on your knee. You hadn’t realised your leg had been bouncing but you stopped it the moment he touched you.  
“I was just telling Y/N that you should come back again soon, when there’s no auditions to interrupt your stay.”  
“Sure, Mum,” Ben said, still touching your leg. You chatted for a bit longer until she got distracted enough for Ben to lean into your ear and softly ask, “You okay? Or do you want to get out of here?”  
“Please,” you whispered back.  
“Okay, follow me,”  
He took your hand and told his mum he wanted to introduce you to someone but you barely heard it, your head buzzing as you made a polite exit and let Ben lead you outside, making excuses to anyone who tried to stop you.  
As soon as you were clear of the venue he pulled out his phone to find a car, one hand on your lower back, rubbing soft circles over your shirt until you felt you could breathe easy again.  
“Better?”  
“Thank you. How’d you know?”  
He shrugged, “I just know you. I saw your leg bouncing and figured Mum had said something,”  
“She mentioned us getting married,”  
“What? Why the fuck would that have come up?”  
“It was just a passing comment but I….” You half shrugged, trying to find the right words.  
“It’s okay, c’mon, let’s go home you can tell me everything.”  
You nodded and let him hug you as you waited for the car. 

Once you were inside Ben grabbed a couple of glasses from the kitchen and then headed into the dining room.  
“Thank you dad,” he mumbled as he pulled a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label out of a cupboard and turned to show you, “He’s kept a stash of this stuff in here since I was a kid. Got in trouble for stealing some a couple of times.”  
“Better not let him find out about this then,” you laughed, feeling more relaxed now that it was just you and Ben, a sizeable distance from the rest of the party.  
Ben chuckled along as he poured a little into each glass and carefully replaced the bottle, “So what happened back there?”  
“I don’t know,” you accepted your glass and took a sip, leaning against the corner of the table.  
Ben didn’t cut in, he just took his own drink and waited until you could say more.  
“I guess it was just harder to be around your family than I was expecting. It wasn’t the same as sitting in a restaurant on a _date_ ,” you drew the quotation marks in the air with your fingers, “That was a room full of people who care about you and they were all so lovely and welcoming and your mum said she’d been hoping you’d bring me here since she saw a photo of us and invited me back so she could get to know me and I said I’d love to because what else could I say and she seemed so happy about it and so pleased that you’re so happy and I feel so guilty about lying to them all. What if they find out? Your mum’ll be so disappointed.”  
“Don’t worry about lying to them, I’ve done it plenty before,” when you didn’t laugh he put his glass down beside you and took you free hand in his, “Seriously, Y/N, there’s nothing to feel guilty about. The premiere is coming up in a couple of weeks and then pretty soon after that we’ll break up and I’ll tell them it just wasn’t working, and they’ll accept it and never have to know the truth. And then we can forget this whole thing and move on.”  
You weren’t so sure that was what you wanted anymore, but you weren’t sure enough to say it. Instead you put your glass down as well and said, “but it must be hard for you too. Having me here and everything.” It was only when you looked at him that you realised how close you were standing. He was still holding your hand, his thumb rubbing back and forth over your fingers.  
“I’m a big boy, I can handle it.”  
You weren’t sure what compelled you to do it, the drink maybe, or just pent up sexual tension, but he was so close and he was looking at you with those eyes and before you could stop yourself you leaned in to kiss him. He seemed a bit shocked, taking half a step back, and you were sure he was going to tell you it wasn’t a good idea and then leave you standing there alone. But then his hand was on your jaw as he kissed you back, all hesitancy gone. You felt him sigh against you as if he’d been holding his breath, waiting for this to happen again, and pulled him in closer.

***

Maybe it was the months without sex, or maybe it was how often your mind had conjured similar scenes, or maybe it was just how good it felt to have him press you against the table to kiss you again, but whatever the reason it wasn’t long until you were pushing the hem of his shirt up over his stomach. He took the hint and stopped kissing you just long enough to pull it over his head, quickly finding your lips again as his fingers worked on the buttons of your shirt. He got about halfway through and then stopped, instead dropping his hands to your arse so he could lift you up and carry you up the hall towards his room. He kicked the door shut once he was through it and pressed you against it, kissing you as if to make up for lost time. It was a heady experience, being pinned to the door, your legs wrapped around him as you kissed messily. Too much and not enough all at once. You needed him closer still and clutched at his shoulders to try and make him understand. Either he really could read you well or he wanted the same thing because a moment later there was no longer a door behind you, Ben taking the few steps towards the bed and letting himself drop to the mattress. He pushed your shirt from your shoulders, no longer needing to hold you up, and ran his hands over your sides as if trying to map out he lines of your body. A whine escaped you as your need to remove layers grew and you dropped your hands to his belt, fumbling blindly with the buckle. A voice in your head told you it was a bad idea. You still weren’t certain of your feelings, weren’t sure doing this would cure you of them or if it’d just make everything messier than it already was. But the voice got quieter with every shift of your hips and every stroke of his fingers.  
“You’ve no idea how much I’ve thought about this,” he mumbled against your neck.  
All you could manage was a small whimper of agreement as he kissed you again, and traced his fingers up to the clasp of your bra. It was on the floor in seconds, his hands replacing the material, only making you want more. You arched your back into his touch, panted against his lips. He smiled, circled a nipple with his thumb, delighted in your response.

Suddenly he flipped you over so you were sitting on the bed, kissed you again and then stood up.  
“Ben?” you were worried he was going to put an end to things before they got too far. Thankfully he didn’t, just shucked off his pants. You almost laughed in relief as he leaned over you again, making quick work of the fastening of your skirt so it too could join the clothing on the floor. The voice in your head was gone, silenced by the pure desperate need to have him touch you more, and he was making no moves to stop it either as you shuffled further up the bed, pulling him along with you. You let out a choked off moan as he kissed a trail down your neck, tilted your head to the side so he could reach all the spots that made you gasp. But it still wasn’t enough. You were going to go crazy with need if you didn’t get something more soon, so you let your hand fall between you, rubbed your palm over the front of his boxers, felt him rock his hips against your hand, already hard. He sat back on his knees so he could slip your underwear down your legs.  
“Fuck,” he groaned as soon as he realised how wet you were.  
You grabbed his wrist and put his hand between your legs, hoping he’d take the hint. He did, trailing his fingers between your lips, over your clit. Your breath caught as he slipped a lone digit into you, slowly, easing you into it before he added a second. He watched you closely, eyes half lidded and soft, the tip of his tongue poking out from between his teeth like he was concentrating on memorizing every inch of you, inside and out. Even in that moment, when your breaths were coming shaky and uneven, and your skin was burning under his gaze, even then all you could think was how hot he looked, hair ruffled, lips kiss swollen, completely enraptured by you. He shifted his finger slightly and your eyes fluttered shut.  
“There, babe, fuck, right there,” you sighed.  
“Like that?” he asked softly, twitching his fingers against you again.  
You nodded though he drew a more vocal response from you a few seconds later when he added a third finger and leaned down to suck your nipple between his lips.  
He hummed when he heard you say his name and repeated the same motion in the same place, so you said his name again, louder, and then again and again as he kept going, hitting you exactly where you needed him. You were almost surprised by how quickly he managed to pull you over the edge. Almost. But it had been a while and he’d always promised he was good. He worked you through it before he carefully withdrew his fingers and kissed you again, stealing what little breath you had left.

And then he stopped. Sat back again.  
You blinked your eyes open and reached for him as he leaned over the edge of the bed, opened the draw of the beside cabinet and swore. Pulling himself back towards you he took your outstretch hand and kissed the back of it, “I don’t have any condom’s here,” he sounded apologetic.  
“I have some, wait,” you kissed him quickly before you stood, a little unsteady, and opened the wardrobe door, thankful Felicity had given you the handful of them and that you’d brought the bag with you. He looked like he was about to ask why but the sight of you climbing onto the bed, straddling him, with one hand on his chest to lay him down, made the question die in his throat. He let his head fall back onto the pillow as you pulled his underwear off and rolled the condom on as quick as you could manage. And then you sank down onto him, trying to take your time.  
“Fuck,” you whined, pausing to give you both a moment to adjust. His hand grabbed onto your waist, fingertips pressing into you, encouraging you to move. It was soft but not quite, both of you panting and groaning as you raised and lowered yourself on him, building up to a steady rhythm. His hands roamed over you, grabbing your arse the way he had done on his couch, moving over your breasts, squeezing your hips, gentle but firm pulling you to speed up each time. You needed to be closer though, so you leaned down to kiss him again, grunting at the change of position. But it interrupted your flow, made you stutter out of time, so Ben propped himself up on his elbows, and then when that wasn’t enough, sat up fully, his knees rising behind you. One hand was braced on your back to keep you steady as you circled your hips, the other cupped your cheek as his forehead leaned against yours, every uneven breath audible, able to feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest under your palm.  
“I love you,” he sighed, his nose bumping against yours as he searched for your lips again. You were on the verge of repeating his words back to him when he dropped his hand from your cheek, let it fall between you and brush against your clit, the confession lost in your moan.  
“You gonna c-cum for me?”  
You nodded, leaning into his neck as you did your best to keep riding him, legs shaking with the effort and your approaching release. He didn’t let up until you were crying out into his shoulder, following close behind you with his own moan.

***

You lost track of how long you sat there, leaning against each other as you came down, lost track of where you were, lost track of the reality of your relationship. Your instinct was to keep clinging to Ben, keep kissing along his jaw and nose as you pulled yourselves back together. But it was too much for him. He let go of you suddenly, as if just touching you was painful.  
“I’ve gotta…” he said with a half hearted nod in the direction of the doorway.  
“Oh. Right, yeah,” you climbed off him, trying not to react to the sudden emptiness, the sudden cool of the air outside of his embrace.  
Ben moved to the edge of the bed, glanced at you, ran his hand through his hair.  
“I wasn’t expecting that to happen,” you offered somewhat lamely, not sure how to explain everything you were feeling.  
“Neither. Are you okay?”  
“Yeah. I, um, it was really good and I-I think I kind of needed it.” This was it. There was no more running from what you were feeling. No more pretending it was platonic or just physical. You had to come clean, to yourself as much as to Ben.  
Ben smiled but it was a pained kind of smile, “It was good for me too. Really good. But it can’t ever happen again.” He stood up before you could say anything else, tied off the condom and put his boxers back on, making a hasty retreat.  
Something stirred in your memory and you had the sudden urge to tell him he couldn’t leave you because he owed you a third orgasm, but it was too late. He was gone and you were left sitting there, naked and alone, waiting for him to come back so you could explain. When enough time had passed without his return you got up, put your pyjamas on and went to the bathroom, running on autopilot as you considered everything that had just happened. Maybe Ben was right to walk away. Maybe it had been a mistake. He probably wouldn’t believe you if you told him how you really felt. You’d taken too long to work it out, been too vocal about not feeling it. And it would be poor timing to say it right after you’d slept together. He’d think you were saying what he wanted to hear so he wouldn’t be embarrassed about saying it himself. And maybe it was down to all the tension between you. You’d spent all day pretending to be the loving girlfriend after all, maybe it had influenced you a bit, made you think you felt things you didn’t actually feel. But something that good, that tender, didn’t just happen with anyone, surely. It certainly hadn’t been like that with anyone else you’d been with casually. And you’d assumed that having sex with Ben would be the solution, that you’d finish and be fixed. No more thinking about him, no more wanting to be with him. But all you really wanted was to cuddle up beside him. Fall asleep in his arms. That wasn’t something you usually wanted from one night stands. Normally you’d want to get out as fast as possible not sit in their bedroom and wait for them. And the thought of everything else that could happen if he just knew it was what you wanted – waking up beside him, making him coffee, listening to him play stupid love songs on his stupid guitar, comforting him on bad days, being his actual fucking girlfriend and not just his pretend one – all of that sounded so fucking wonderful. It couldn’t just be endorphins making you feel like that. There had to be something of substance behind it all. Afterall they’d been there for a while now, those feelings. It wasn’t like the sex had conjured them. You’d been pretending not to notice them but they’d been there for months. So the only way forward was to tell him.

When you got back to the bedroom Ben was there, curled away from you on a makeshift bed on the floor. He could have been sleeping except his shoulder’s were too rigid, holding too much tension.  
“Ben?”  
He didn’t respond, just kept feigning sleep. So you switched out the light and tiptoed to the bed, crawling under the covers. The sheets still smelt like him and it made your heart ache. What if you just said it? You sat up, turned your head in his direction.  
“Ben?” it came out as more of a whisper than you’d have like so you tried again, “Ben, I-I-” If you said it now would he join you? Or would he pretend he hadn’t heard? You fell silent again at that thought, not sure you could cope with it. Maybe you’d just hold off for a bit. Wait until the premiere. Give yourself time to find the exact right words to explain your apparent change of heart. He couldn’t write you off as trying to spare him some embarrassment if you said it weeks after he’d let it slip in the throws of passion. He’d have to take you seriously then. “Goodnight,” you sighed, and lay down again, though try as you might, you couldn’t sleep. You lay there in the dark, sure Ben was just as awake as you were, with only one thought in your head. You loved Ben. And you didn’t know what to do about it.


	7. Drive Me Crazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of your night together. The premiere of The Perfect Match. Will Ben ever let you tell him how you feel?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are. The end. Kind of. I've still got an epilogue planned and a chapter of moments from Ben's POV but this is the last of the main chapters. I've had an absolute blast writing this story and I am so proud of it and so happy to have gotten this far in it. I hope you enjoy it.

It took you a couple of minutes after you woke up to remember why you weren’t in your bed but as soon as the memory of the previous night hit you, you felt wide awake. A soft knock on the door made you sit up, head flicking towards the noise as the knob turned and the door creaked open a crack.  
“Oh. You’re up,” Ben said, obviously displeased, closing the door behind him with his foot, his hands both occupied. He must have had the same thought you did, of him kicking the door shut and pushing you up against it, because his cheeks were flushed as he handed you a cup of coffee and a plate of toast, “I wasn’t expecting you to be awake yet but mum insisted I bring you breakfast.”  
“Thanks,” you smiled despite his cold greeting.   
“Right, well.”  
“Hey, do you want to talk about what happened? We didn’t really get a chance last night but ther-”  
“No. Not here, not now. I’ll be in the kitchen, take your time.” He was gone before you could stop him. You sighed and looked down at the toast, knowing full well you weren’t going to eat it. Even if breakfast had been your most regular meal you were sure you’d be sick if you ate anything. The sip of coffee you had made you feel nauseous enough. How were you meant to tell Ben you loved him if he couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as you? You dumped the unwanted breakfast on the bedside table and got up to start packing. It was easy enough, you didn’t really have that much to find, though your bra had been kicked under the bed in the previous night’s excitement. And the condom wrapper that crunched under your foot, so hastily discarded, sent another pang through you. While you dressed you went over what you wanted to say to Ben. Perhaps he’d soften once you were further away from his family and the scene of the crime. Perhaps the drive would give you time to discuss what you both wanted. With a deep breath you hoped would calm your worries, you picked up the uneaten breakfast and headed for the kitchen. It was empty. You tipped the warm coffee down the sink and put the toast in the compost bin on the bench before poking your head back into the hallway to try to find Ben or anyone else.

A noise from outside caught your attention and you followed it to find Ben, his parents, his brother, and a couple that might have been an aunt and uncle though you couldn’t quite remember. They explained there hadn’t been enough room in the kitchen and invited you to join them. Ben was standing beside you within seconds, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as if he did it every morning. Of course, you knew it was just for show, just because there was an audience to perform for. But that didn’t stop you from savouring it, breathing him in. Then he was telling you to take his seat since he had to shower and pack anyway. You chatted with his family, apologised for not saying goodbye the previous night. Ben had already covered for you, which you found out when his mum waved off your apology and said she understood all about auditions.  
“Ben always used to be in bed early the night before so I’m not that surprised he insisted on getting you out of the party when he did. Did you sleep okay?”  
“Yeah, really well.” Lie. Add it to the list.  
“Good. Wouldn’t want you losing out on a roll because you were yawning too much,”  
You laughed your agreement and steered the conversation in another direction until Ben emerged again, hair damp, smelling like unfamiliar shampoo. With no spare seat he nudged you to stand, taking your place and wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you onto his lap. You smiled as he leaned into your shoulder, trying not to draw too much attention your way lest someone realise your thoughts were stuck on last night, stuck on how he’d felt under you, your palm flat against his chest. Eager hands and harsh breaths, achingly hard, because of you. You blinked back to the present when someone directed a question your way. After a little while Ben checked his phone for the time and, nudging you off his lap, suggested you should leave. Goodbyes were said on the driveway ten minutes later, Angela catching you in a hug and promising to have you back soon, before Ben ushered you into the passenger seat with a reminder that you’d be late if you didn’t leave soon. He tooted the horn as you pulled off down the street and you waved from the window. And then it was quiet. The mood was so different to the trip there. The radio was the only sound but even it was turned down low. You didn’t know what to say. You knew what you wanted to say but not how to go about starting the conversation. Ben kept his eyes glued to the road until you were well away from his family home, as if worried someone might overhear. And then he broke his silence.  
“Last night was a mistake. I didn’t mean it. Any of it.”  
“Any of what?”  
“I’m not in love with you. Never was. It was a mild crush based on physical attraction that got blown out of proportion because we were asked to pretend to date. Last night happened because it had been a while and we’d been drinking. It meant nothing.”  
You were too stunned to do more than nod along, every word you’d wanted to say disappearing from your mind. It didn’t matter. You were too late. You’d wasted all that time pretending not to care and now that you’d finally come to your senses, he’d apparently come to his too, had the same epiphany but in reverse. It was just a game of make believe taken too far. And you’d let yourself get caught up in it.

The rest of the trip back was torture. If you’d been in a more familiar area you would have told him to pull over and got yourself home, but so far from your usual neck of the woods it didn’t really feel like an option. The one silver lining was that you’d left early enough that the traffic wasn’t too heavy. Not that it made the trip feel any shorter. For his part Ben did seem more open to conversation once he’d got his confession off his chest, but you found it hard to match him, especially since he avoided every topic related to your relationship and the upcoming premiere. The one silver lining was that you’d left early enough that traffic wasn’t heavy. Not that it made the trip feel any shorter. You were still stiff and sad when you got out of the car, a terse goodbye the last thing Ben said before he sped off.

Nothing more was said about it. You didn’t mention how enlightening spending time with his family had been, and he didn’t mention what had happened between you. But you kept in touch, mostly through text. Mary let you know the casting director of the witch movie was interested in seeing you read for the middle witch and you sent Ben an excited message to let him know and ask if he’d help film you. He sent back a congratulations that sounded, to you, less than enthusiastic (certainly, there were less emojis than normal), and an excuse about being caught up with friends. You tried a few more times to engage him in conversation, sending him a photo of your makeshift camera stand that you used to film yourself, and then when that didn’t work, a few memes you’d found funny and a message asking how he was. He replied to all of them and if you’d shown the responses to anyone else they probably would have said you had nothing to worry about, but you couldn’t help feeling they were off somehow. The more you thought about it though, the more certain you were that you should come clean after the premiere. Even if he didn’t love you now, he definitely had before. You remembered what Joe had said about how he was pretending he didn’t feel anything for you. And more than that, you remembered what it had been like when he sobbed on your shoulder at the thought of you hating him, the way he’d whispered _I love you_ against your lips while he was buried inside you, vulnerable and honest. By now you considered yourself pretty well versed in the difference between real and fake and there was absolutely no way he’d been faking those completely raw moments. He was a good actor, but not that good. If you could just get the words out, tell him how you felt, surely that would be enough for him to admit what he’d once felt, hopefully still felt. So, after some back and forth about when would be suitable time to bring it up, you decided that you’d tell him at the afterparty. You’d been sent the details of the night and you’d be by Ben’s side for pretty much all of it. The limo would pick him up first and then you, you’d walk the red carpet together, although some interviews would be done separately, and then you’d go on stage together to introduce the movie before sitting beside each other to watch it. After that you’d leave together and arrive at the afterparty together. It meant you should be able to find the opportunity to get him on his own, pull him aside and just tell him. There’d be somewhere you could go to escape the noise and the crowd and you’d sit him down and force him to hear you out. And then either he’d apologise and say it was flattering but he didn’t reciprocate, or he’d let out a soft thank god before pulling you into a real kiss. Not done because people were watching and expecting it. Done because he wanted to and you wanted to. And then you could tell the studio not to worry about breaking you up. And you could date for real. Go back and visit his family, introduce him to yours and to Felicity, meet his friends, move in together. You shook your head to clear it. One step at a time. No point getting ahead of yourself. You still had to make him listen to you and, if his behaviour so far was any indication, he was going to stubbornly refuse for as long as he could.

The lowest point before the premiere was when Joe messaged you on Instagram. You were surprised at first though on reflection you wondered if you should have expected it. It wasn’t a long message. A simple, _can we talk about Ben?_ followed by his phone number. You called straight away.  
“Joe? It’s Y/N,”  
“Oh, wow, that was fast,”  
You shrugged and then realised he couldn’t see you, “I saw the message come in, figured I might as well call now while I knew you were awake. You wanted to talk about Ben”   
“Yeah, it’s….”  
You hoped he was going to tell you about how madly in love with you Ben was, how he was miserable not talking to you properly, how he was pining for you, wishing you’d come over and kiss him again.   
“This is a bit of an awkward call.”  
The hopefulness slipped, creating a sinking feeling in your stomach.  
“I know what happened between you and Ben.”  
“I figured you would. How long did he wait to brag or whatever,”  
“It was hardly bragging, he was a mess. I asked you not to toy with him and then you go and seduce him?”  
“It’s not like that. I didn’t plan it to happen.”  
Joe sighed on the other end of the line.  
“It doesn’t matter anyway because according to Ben it meant nothing.”  
“He said that?”  
“Yup,” you wondered how bitter you sounded as Joe paused.  
“How long before this is all done?”  
“You mean me and Ben being the tabloid’s sweethearts? Couple of weeks tops. Premiere is this weekend. I wouldn’t expect us to last too long after that.”  
“Okay, good.”  
“Is that it?”  
“Unless you had anything else to say?”  
You thought about it for a few seconds, seriously considered telling Joe how you felt. He could probably get Ben to hear you out. But who was he to know your feelings? It was bad enough that Ben ran to him with every minor shift in your relationship, why should you do the same? Especially after he’d asked to talk just to tell you off, “Nope. So, if you’re done scolding me,”  
“It’s a shame. I thought – but I guess not. I can’t wait for all this to be over.”  
“You and me both.” As soon as you’d hung up you regretted it. But it would be too awkward to call back and ask for help.

The night of the premiere was vastly different from the last time you’d got completely dolled up to go out with Ben. Felicity wasn’t there, though you wished she was. Instead you had a small team of makeup artists and hair stylists ready to spruce you up. Your dress was new, sleek and elegant, and they created a style to match it. If it had been any other week you were sure Ben would have been blown away by the sight of you. His reaction upon seeing you climb into the back of the limo beside him was a stiff complement though the not-as-subtle-as-he-was-hoping once over her gave you was very gratifying, especially when you caught him looking at you, eyes soft and lip held lightly between his teeth, twice more before you arrived at the red carpet. Perhaps there was hope. You certainly wanted to believe there was as you got out and Ben offered you his arm. Together you made your way down the carpet, breaking apart to sign posters and photos for fans, pausing for quickfire interviews, sometimes together, sometimes apart. You talked about who you were wearing and smiled whenever Ben complemented you, returning the sweet words with your own. But there was a tension in the way Ben carried himself, like he was trying to stop himself running away from you and was only barely managing it. And then there was the lack of contact. Where he’d usually grab your hand and squeeze it for support, he instead settled on bumping fingers and pulling away like a teenager on their first date still a little scared of cooties. He didn’t hug you or wrap an arm around your waist as you walked down the carpet, didn’t come any closer than he had to. Even when you stopped in front of a wall of cameras and had people yelling at you to kiss he seemed reluctant. It wasn’t the usual soft, sweet brush of his lips. It was quicker, more self-conscious, like an obligation. Like he’d have gone for a simple cheek kiss if he’d thought he could get away with it. But, if Ben was acting less affectionate, you were acting more so. You found any excuse to touch his arm or lean on his shoulder, any excuse to get a little closer. It was possible you could write his coldness off as stress or nerves about the premiere getting to him, and if that was the case you wanted to be extra warm to make up for it. And even if his demeanour was directly related to a lack of interest in you, it made you feel better to make it harder for him. But it also made you question the sanity of your plan. Was it worth it to tell him? Would you even be able to convince him to join you in a less public area so you could talk? It was an argument you continued to have with yourself the entire night. All the way down the red carpet. As you entered the theatre. Even while you were on stage, beaming at each other as you talked about how proud you were of the movie, how much you’d enjoyed making it and how much you hoped the audience liked it. Watching the film was a slightly surreal experience. You’d seen those expression’s on Ben’s face off set as much as on. The way Andy looked at Edith, the small, shy smile he got when she complemented him, the pleading in his eyes when he was trying to convince her he still loved her, the soft loving gaze as he watched her at their engagement party. You’d seen them all, directed not at Edith but you, Y/N. You wondered if he’d noticed the same things about you. Did your face give away your feelings as much as his did? Had you been looking at him like that without even realising it? You chanced a glanced at Ben, but he was staring resolutely at the screen.

Afterwards you were ushered out of the theatre along with your co-stars, back to the cars. The group split in half, you and Ben leaving with Alfie tagging along. Not that you minded, it made the drive a little more enjoyable than it would have been otherwise. You still weren’t sure what you were going to do and this way you got to escape making a decision for a little longer. But not forever. The car pulled up to a club that had essentially been hired out for the cast and crew to celebrate in. Most people were already there and already a couple of drinks in. You cuddled up to Ben at the first flash of the cameras, hanging off his arm as you headed inside. Now was your chance. The entrance was the quietest part of the building and there was a long corridor that led to a set of bathrooms, completely devoid of other people. If you were going to tell him, that would be the perfect place. But before you could indicate you wanted a private word he caught your arm.  
“Can I speak to you over here for a sec?”  
You nodded and accompanied him towards the hallway. The trim was a deep teal colour but the rest of the hallway was one long mirror and for a moment you were distracted by what you and Ben looked like together.  
“Y/N?”  
“Yes, sorry,” you said, pulling your focus back to him, “Um, actually, I kinda had something I wanted to say too,”  
Ben didn’t acknowledge your sentence just bowled on through with his own, “I was going to hold off until later but I don’t want to let something slip after a few drinks or anything like that. I can’t do this anymore. This whole thing was a mistake that I should never have agreed to and I need it to be over now.”  
“What does that mean?”  
“Y/N, don’t be difficult.” His sneer was reflected at you from every angle  
“Who’s being difficult? You know they’re going to break us up in like a week, right?”  
“Yeah well, that’s too long to wait. I’m breaking us up now. They can still run the story whenever they want to but I am going to tell my parents because I am so fucking sick of Mum asking when I’m bringing you back. And…” he paused as if contemplating the next part, “I don’t think I can see you again, not for a while at least. I need some space to forget this ever happened. I um, I start my new job in a few days so I think they’ll probably use that in the magazines to explain our breakup. And I don’t expect I’ll see you until after it’s finished. If then. So….good luck with that witch movie. Take care of yourself.” He pushed past you back out into the main entry before you could fully understand what had just happened. By the time you found your voice he was gone.

You walked in a daze, out the door you’d only just entered, back to where the cars waited. Your last opportunity, gone. As soon as you were alone in the back of the car you called Felicity.  
“Are you calling just to brag about how much fun you’re having?”  
Your voice was steady as you spoke, “Can you come to mine, like, now?”  
“Aren’t you out at the party though?”  
“Something happened and I left,”  
“Honey? What happened, are you okay? Is Ben there?”  
Hearing his name was like a punch in the gut and you felt your voice shake as it got harder to breath calmly, “No, h-he’s not,”  
“Okay, I’ll be there in ten.”   
By the time you pulled up outside the house, she was waiting on the front doorstep with a shopping bag.  
“I bought ice cream and booze. Wasn’t sure which was more necessary.”  
“What kind of booze?” you asked as you dug your key out of your clutch, voice thick.  
“Baileys,”  
“It’ll do. Think I have something stronger round here as well.”  
“Here, let me help,” Felicity took the key from your shaking hand and successfully opened the door. As soon as you were inside, she steered you to the lounge room and sat you on the couch. The baileys and tubs of slightly melted ice cream were placed on the coffee table, condensation pooling on the smooth surface. She disappeared for a bit but you, reliving everything Ben had said, only noticed when she came back by the clanking of the spoons on the coffee table. She handed you a glass and you downed half of it in one hit.  
“Shit, that bad huh? You wanna tell me what happened?” she asked as she took the spot next to you and settled in, legs folded up under her.  
“I…I think I love Ben,” it was half sob as the magnitude of his words fully hit you.  
“Isn’t that a good thing though?”  
You shook your head, trying to keep composed when you realised how much you had to explain. Felicity just looked confused as she took a spoon of ice cream.  
“It was fake. The whole relationship. All the dates and all the pictures of us and everything was planned out by the studio to drum up hype for the movie.”  
“Wait, really?” she looked more shocked than you’d expected, “Everything? Even the stuff you told me on the phone?”  
You nodded, “I didn’t want to keep it from you but there was a contract involved.”  
“Okay, that’s insane. I had no idea that actually happened! So, _all_ of it was fake?”  
“All of it. More or less anyway.”  
“The three orgasms?”  
“Yeah,” you nodded slowly, not even able to laugh at where her mind went first, “Well sort of. I mean it was only two but it didn’t happened then, it was a bit later and he said…” you broke off again, trying to swallow though your mouth felt completely dry.  
“Wait, you gotta go back, I’m not following,”  
“Okay,” you tried to steady yourself but your leg bounced against the floor and your fingers twisted against each other, “The studio set up our relationship and we were just acting the whole time except…except I found out th-that Ben actually did love me,” you had to take another steadying breath, Felicity’s hand shooting out to squeeze your knee reassuringly, “I overheard him on the phone and I freaked out because I didn’t realise I felt the same. I thought it was just the job getting to me and I figured once the studio broke us up it’d be over except then we actually did sleep together for real at his parents place and he told me he loved me during it and I realised I actually do like him and I tried to tell him but he couldn’t even look at me and the next day he said it was a mistake and that he’d never loved me and then tonight he basically told me he doesn’t want to see me again and I don’t know what to do.” by the time everything was out you were breathless and well and truly in tears.  
Felicity got up to grab you a tissue and when she returned she sat down right beside you, practically on top of you, so you could lean on her shoulder as you cried. Your heart ached at the thought of never seeing Ben again, but Felicity comforted you until you calmed enough to repeat some of the parts she’d missed. Eventually she had enough of a grasp of it to offer some advice.   
“Why don’t you call him, tell him how you feel?”  
“You didn’t see how he looked at me tonight. He wants nothing to do with me,”  
“God he must have been a good lay to make you fall so hard,”  
You let out a watery laugh at that.  
“I can’t believe the whole thing was fake and I didn’t pick it. You’re a good actress. Had me completely fooled.”  
“That was kinda the point. Helped that we both did like each other too. I was just too dumb to see it,”  
“Nah, you weren’t dumb. It can’t have been easy having to pretend the whole time,” she was silent for a second, stroking your hair, “He’ll come round. You wait, he’ll be calling up tomorrow to apologise for being such an arse.”

But there was no call. Not the next day or the day after or the day after that. You waited, curled up in bed hoping that if you stared at the phone long enough you could force it to ring, but the only calls you got were from Felicity, checking to see if you’d gotten out of bed at all, and one from Mary to go over the details of the break up. Ben had been right, they were going to use his new movie as the catalyst.  
“Distance is a known relationship killer and Ben is filming outside of the UK so it’ll be easy to sell it as a result of that. Plus, as far as the public know, you’ve had some rocky patches anyway so it shouldn’t take much to convince everyone you’re over.”  
“Wait, he’s not in London?”  
“Not from what I’ve heard.”  
“Do you know where he is?”  
“Y/N, I’m not _his_ agent.”  
As soon as you were off the phone you sent Ben a text wishing him good luck with the new movie, but he left you on read. To try and distract yourself you opened Instagram and watched some of your friend’s stories, but it didn’t work for long and you quickly closed the app down. In the first couple of days you’d spent a lot of time scrolling through social media, checking the regular hashtags, seeing what people were saying about you and Ben. To start it had just been a lot of comments, complements and criticism alike, about what you’d worn to the premiere. But gradually the speculation crept in. People could see something was off, even if they couldn’t tell what. Gossip blogs direct messaged you looking for confirmation that you were either still together or, better yet, split up. You saw tweets casting you as the jilted ex, so blinded by love she didn’t see the end coming. Others were sure you had been or would be the one to break it off, sometimes proclaiming it a win for independent women everywhere, sometimes a villainous attack on poor Ben. You stopped looking after that. It just made you more upset and you weren’t sure you could handle what else might be posted. For one thing, you couldn’t remember if there had been photos taken of you fleeing the party not ten minutes after arriving. You had to assume there had been, though at the time you were too distraught to notice. And then there was the idea that someone might have seen Ben pull you aside, might have intended to sneak some shots of you making out in a deserted corridor and instead caught the moment he broke your heart. You definitely wouldn’t be able to cope with that. Just thinking about it sent a wave of despair through you, seeing it would be ten times worse. Not that you had any reason to believe you had been seen but you never knew with these things and it was better to be safe than sorry.

You stuck to your no-social-media guns even after the breakup was officially announced but, unfortunately, all the previous times you’d clicked on article after article, scrolled through tweets about yourself, had impacted things your phone recommended to you and you found yourself being ambushed by photos of you and Ben accompanied by headlines proclaiming the split. The worst came a few days after the news broke when you saw an article about Ben being back in the dating game. According to the website his account on Bumble had been active again for the first time in months. Any notions you’d had about getting over him were proved wrong as soon as you realised what the article was saying. Your chest tightened until you felt like you could barely breathe and the words on the screen began to blur. You sent a link to it to Felicity who called you as soon as she saw it.   
“It can’t be real, Y/N.”  
“Why not. We weren’t really dating so what’s to stop him finding someone else now?”  
“It’s been like three days since it was announced, his PR team or whatever would hate an article like this because it makes him look like a sleezy fuckboy.”  
“So then it’s not leaked by his people, it’s more likely to be legit.”  
“Or it’s made up to get hits.”  
“Maybe he meant it,”  
“Meant what?”  
“That he never loved me.”  
“I very much doubt that.”  
“How would you know, you never met him,”  
“No but I saw the photos of how he looked at you,”  
“Which weren’t real,”  
“Fine, maybe I don’t know what I’m on about. But you met him, and I’d guess you know him pretty well by now, and to be this torn up about him you must have thought there was a chance he felt the same way.” She waited for you to say something else but, when she was met with nothing but your sniffles she kept talking, “I still think you need to talk to him. Leave him a voicemail if he doesn’t answer.”  
“I don’t think he’d listen even if I did,” you sighed miserably.   
“Y/N, honey, I know you’re hurting but you can’t keep waiting for him to call. If you really want to be with him then call him and tell him that. Or forget about him. But either way you have got to stop wallowing like this. I’m coming over tonight and I expect to see you out of bed at least, preferably showered and in clean clothes.”

You’d ended the call just as dejected as when you’d made it, though with the added pain of a headache from crying too much. Slowly you slipped out of bed and shuffled to the kitchen to search for your box of painkillers. Reaching into the cupboard for a glass your fingers brushed over your coffee mug. Distracted from your original goal, you pulled the mug down and stared at it, tracing over the design Ben had painted on it. The purple splatters, the ring, the words. _We’re really good at this dating thing_. If only you’d realised back then what you felt. You might have actually been with Ben by now. Certainly, if you’d known you would have said something after you overheard his phone call. You’d been standing just a few steps over when you’d heard it, his low voice and the bitter laugh as he told Joe how shit it was to unrequitedly love someone. You hated knowing how right he’d been. But the memory gave you an idea. What you’d said to Felicity was true, she’d never known Ben beyond what he let the public see so she was hardly a reliable judge of character. But you knew someone who did know Ben. Calling him was probably insane. It wasn’t like you were particularly close, and with how your last conversation had ended, it definitely felt more bad idea than good. But, then again, that had been before the premiere, before Ben had gone radio silent, and desperate times called for desperate measures. Quickly, before you could rethink the idea, you picked up your phone and found Joe’s number again.

“Joe speaking,”  
“Is Ben dating again?” you blurted out.  
“What? Who is this?”  
“Sorry, it’s Y/N. Is it true Ben’s dating again?”  
“Why exactly are you calling me about this?” he sounded completely baffled.  
“Ben won’t answer or return my texts or anything,”  
“So naturally you call me. You ever think maybe it’s a hint he doesn’t want to talk to you?”  
You changed tact, “Do you know where his new movie’s filming?”  
“Yes but I’m not telling you,”  
You grunted in frustration. Why was he being so fucking difficult about this, “Look if you just told me I could get out of your hair. There’s something Ben needs to know.”  
“What sort of something?”  
“None of your business,”  
“Okay, well, good luck then.”  
“Wait!” you paused, listening for the click of the phone being hung up. It didn’t come. “Can I ask one more thing?”  
“Go on then,”  
“Did Ben actually love me? At any point?”  
There was silence for long enough to make you think he’d hung up and then, softly, “Yeah, he did. Don’t tell him I said it, but I think he still does.”  
“Then can you please just tell me where in the world he is because I need to tell him I love him too and he won’t fucking let me.”  
“Wait, really?”  
“Yeah,”  
“I fucking knew it,” the sound of Joe slapping something in excitement echoed down the line, “I knew it!”  
“And you didn’t think to let either of us know?”  
“Well you I’d only just met so I couldn’t be sure. And Ben can be so fucking stubborn sometimes,”  
“Yeah, tell me about it.”  
Joe’s laugh was loud and clear, “He’s in Spain. Barcelona to be exact. Give me a minute and I can probably get you the name of the hotel,” you heard some paper rustling, “I fucking knew it.”

When Felicity arrived the next day, she was pleased to see you not only out of bed, showered and dressed, but busily working away at something on the computer. Her happiness slipped into something much closer to disbelief when you told her the plan you’d come up with after your conversation with Joe, but you pointed out that really it was her fault for being adamant that you should talk to Ben.  
“I can’t just call and hope Ben doesn’t delete the message, I have to make him listen. Otherwise I’ll never know for sure.”  
“Okay but you know this sounds fucking insane, right? What if he’s not there? What if he refuses to see you?”  
“Then I come home again as soon as I can and try to move on. Look, I know it’s like completely ridiculous and mad but I have to do something. You’re gonna help me, right?”  
“Well duh.”  
The first thing she helped you do was find a good flight. It was a little later than you’d wanted but it took off that night and didn’t stop over in any other countries. You bought a one way ticket just in case Ben wanted you to stay. Once you had it you couldn’t help but laugh. It was fitting, this grand gesture to tell Ben how you felt. The sort of thing you’d expect to see in a rom-com. And considering you’d met on the set of one, had acted out the scene already (though of course, he’d been the one running through the rain to find you in the movie), it made a certain sort of sense that this was what you had to do. Apparently the universe had a sense of humour. The rest of the evening was spent putting the plan into motion, packing a suitcase in the hopes you’d be there at least a little while. Felicity drove you to the airport, talking excitedly about how she couldn’t believe you were actually going to fly to Spain just to talk to a boy. It helped to keep you calm as you oscillated between wishing you could go faster and wondering if this wasn’t a big mistake. When you voiced this out loud Felicity made a frustrated noise, nearly forgetting to break at a red light.  
“You are not backing out of this Y/N. I swear to god I’ll get on that plane with you if I have to. You’re doing this.”  
“I know, I know. Thanks,”  
“It’s what I’m here for. I know how to get my best friend laid.”  
You snorted your laughter.

There was no need for Felicity to join you on the plane, though she stayed with you until your flight boarded, the nerves only getting stronger. You took your seat and waited for everyone else to find theirs, watching as businessmen and tourists shuffled past you. The two or so hours the flight took was the hardest part. At home you’d had the process of packing and planning to occupy your mind, as well as Felicity’s constant conversation. But on the plane, you had nothing but the entertainment screen and a magazine you’d picked up in the airport. And they could hardly be called distractions. The crossword puzzle at the back of the magazine just reminded you of sitting next to Ben on the flight to New York, the articles made you think about everything that had been published about you over the previous half a year, and the screen seemed to hold nothing but romantic movies designed to make you emotional. You had to grab the sick bag tucked into the seat pouch in front of you at one point, fearing the building anticipation would make you throw up. But you, and the woman in the seat next to yours, were able to breathe a sigh of relief when you landed, vomit free. After that you were moving again, able to focus on each step as they came. Finding a cab, telling the driver where you needed to go, watching the buildings flying past as you drove towards the hotel. You glanced at the time and wondered if it had been a mistake to not wait until morning but the idea of trying to sleep another night without knowing how Ben actually felt was impossible to contemplate. When the cab pulled up outside the hotel you fumbled pulling your card out of your purse, and then climbed out and grabbed your suitcase, hoping it hadn’t just been wishful thinking to pack it. Joe had given you Ben’s room number, so you headed straight for the elevator, counted the floors as you past each one. All of a sudden you were walking down the hall, searching for his room, standing outside his door, knocking on it. There was silence from inside, so you knocked again. More silence. You chewed the inside of your cheek as you contemplated what to do. It was possible he wasn’t in there, maybe caught up with the rest of the cast somewhere. You glanced at the time again. It wasn’t exactly early and there was a do not disturb sign swinging from the door handle, maybe he’d called it a night already and was sleeping peacefully. Third time’s the charm, you thought as you raised your fist to knock again. If he didn’t answer you’d go downstairs and make an enquiry at the reception desk, see if anyone knew if he was in or not. You’d just pulled your hand away again when you heard it, footsteps coming towards the door followed by a deep, familiar voice that said, “I’m coming, I’m coming,”, and then he was tugging it open, mumbling something about not being disturbed. He stopped when he saw you, tired eyes blinking in disbelief, wearing a t-shirt and flannel pyjama pants. Your heart was hammering against your chest as you tried to remember everything you’d planned to say.  
“Y/N? What ar-”  
You put your hand over his mouth as your brain kicked back into gear, “You wouldn’t reply to my texts and I didn’t know if you’d listen to any voicemails I left you but I have something I need to tell you so that’s why I’m here. I love you. I didn’t realise it at first but I think I started to feel something after our first date, maybe earlier, I can’t tell. By the time I started to think that maybe I liked you as more than a friend I thought it was just because we were acting like we were in love but then spending time with your family made me realise it wasn’t just pretend, I wanted to be with you. And when we slept together, that just confirmed it for me, I love you. I wanted to tell you that night but you shut me out and then you said you’d never loved me and I didn’t know what to do so I thought I’d wait until after the premiere except then you broke up with me and stopped talking to me and it’s been hell without you. I’ve missed you so much, so fucking much, and all I’ve wanted is to see you again and hear your voice and hug you and I’d really like to date you for real, or at least be friends again because not having you in my life is complete shit.” You stopped and slowly pulled your hand away from him, breathing as hard as if you’d just run a marathon, blinking away the tears that had begun to form. Ben stared at you, lips slightly parted.  
When he didn’t move, didn’t respond, you began to think you’d made a monumental error, “That’s all I had to say,” you mumbled, already preparing yourself to have the door shut in your face.   
“Thank God,” he breathed out as he suddenly moved, pressing his lips to yours, cupping your face with one hand as the other pulled your body tight against his. Pure relief flooded your system, as you kissed him back as hard as you could manage, determined to show him exactly how much you felt for him. Together you teetered on the spot, his fingers tight on your waist, yours pressing into his chest and the back of his neck. Even when you stopped kissing you remained standing close enough to see the tears clinging to his eyelashes, both of you breathing hard as you adjusted to the knowledge your feelings were reciprocated.

The creak of a door further up the hallway reminded you where you were.  
“Are you staying?” he asked softly, closing his eyes, nudging your nose with his.  
“Is that okay?”  
“More than okay. I’m so happy to see you.” He broke away for real a few seconds later, though his hand quickly found yours so he could pull you inside his suite. It was nicer than the ones you’d shared in America, bigger, more spacious. Perks of living there for months rather than weeks. You left your bag in the entrance, let him lead you towards the couch. The coffee table was littered with dirty dishes.   
“Comfort food,” he shrugged when he saw you looking, “I was a fucking idiot.”  
“Little bit. Can’t say I was much smarter though,”  
He chuckled at that and followed it up with a sigh, “I’m really sorry for how I acted,” he said softly, frowning a little as he brushed some of your hair behind your ear. You took the seat he offered you, perched on the edge of the couch, unsure how to be comfortable until everything that needed to be said had been. Ben followed suit, taking the place next to yours, your knees pointing towards each other. For a moment neither of you spoke. There was a lot to process, a lot you still wanted to know, and it was hard to work out where to start.  
Finally you broke the silence, “Why’d you do it?”  
He understood what you meant, “After that night at my parent’s…. I thought I’d fucked everything up when I said _that_ while we were _y’know_. After the first time I told you and you nearly ran off, how could you ever want to see me again? And I was so worried I’d never be able to get over you. I thought if I told you I’d never been into you, acted like it, then I could make it true.”  
“Did it work?”  
“Of course not,” he said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “Which is why I pushed you away. I figured it would be easier to get over you if I didn’t have to see you or act like your boyfriend and I knew I’d be coming here so it seemed like a good idea to make a clean break of it.”  
You nodded, processing what he’d said. Hesitantly he reached for your hand again, pulled it from your lap, closer to him, so he could play with your fingers. You were happy to let him.  
Ben stifled a yawn, “Sorry. Promise it’s not ‘cause I’m bored,”  
You realised just how tired he looked. It was late after all, and he’d probably had a long day filming. You yourself felt pretty worn out too, no longer running on adrenaline and anxiety. But there was still one thing you needed to hear before you could relax. Everything else, all the questions that remained and everything you’d need to discuss, it could all wait until the morning except this one thing.  
“Has there been anyone else?”  
“Anyone else what?”  
“I saw a thing about you dating again,”  
Ben shook his head, “No. I went out with some mates back in London, before I left, and, um, they tried. Said I’d get over you easier if I hooked up with someone else, but I didn’t want anyone else.”  
It felt like a weight was lifted and you smiled, let your head fall to his shoulder.   
He kept running his fingers over yours until he yawned again, “Sorry.”  
“Long day?”  
“Not long exactly. Just, a lot, y’know.”  
“You wanna go to bed?”  
He nodded and yawned again but he waited until you’d got your suitcase before he stood up, watching you the whole time. He’d clearly been in bed when you’d knocked, the blankets out of place, the lights out, and the TV on with the volume down low. Ben replaced the light from the TV with that from a lamp and readjusted the covers as you ducked into the bathroom to change. When you exited the bathroom you found him sitting up in bed, staring at the door.   
“You okay?”  
“Brilliant,” he said softly, giving you a small smile. He shuffled down further under the covers as you climbed in beside him, turned to face each other. There was a moment where he seemed almost afraid to touch you, hand stopping short. You just shuffled closer, caught his hand and placed it around you.   
“You’re actually here, yeah? I’m not just dreaming it?”  
“I’m here Ben.”  
“Don’t leave, okay?”  
“I won’t.”   
He took a breath and then said, so softly you might have missed it if the room weren’t so quiet, “I love you,”  
“I love you too,”  
With that reassurance he pulled you closer still and gave you a soft, lingering kiss.

Ben fought off sleep for as long as he could, eyes slipping shut and then blinking open again until finally his breathing evened out and he dropped off. It was sweet, his attempts to keep you in sight. You still weren’t certain he wasn’t going to vanish in a puff of smoke either. It seemed unreal that you could be there with him, wrapped up in his arms, with no one trying to catch you on camera. That was something you’d have to talk about before long, the tabloids. For the moment they were preoccupied running stories about your breakup but how long would it be before they sought you out for more? And when they found you together, they weren’t going to just let it go. Even now there was probably someone camped outside your house, hoping to catch a glimpse of you with another man or a tub of ice-cream and a box of tissues. How long before they realised you weren’t there? How long before they found out where you’d gone? Ben snuffled in his sleep and distracted you from your worries. It could all wait. You could feel yourself edging closer to sleep, helped along by the steady rise and fall of Ben’s chest, the familiar rhythm of him. A pinging noise cut though the quiet of the room and you realised it was your phone. Carefully, so as not to wake Ben, you extracted yourself from his arms and tiptoed over to your suitcase where you’d dumped the clothes you’d been wearing. Your phone dinged again and then again right as you found it.   
_Y/N, What happened?_  
 _You have to have arrived by now, did you find Ben?_  
 _Y/N!!!_  
 _I’m dying here!!!_  
 _This silence better be because you’re being dicked down right now_  
 _BITCH!!! ANSWER YOUR PHONE!!!_  
You laughed quietly to yourself and typed back a quick reply, “I’m with Ben. Been talking. Will call tomorrow.”   
You’d barely hit send when a new reply came in, “So it worked? You’re together?”  
“Yeah. For real this time.” You dropped your phone amongst your things and climbed back into bed, snuggling back into Ben’s warm embrace.


	8. The Perfect Match (Epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens after you tell Ben you love him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue time! I loved writing this story too much to leave it alone lmao 
> 
> Once again smut is marked by a *** in case you'd like to skip it.

Being in Barcelona with Ben was like having a fresh start. One without intrusive photographers or the pressure of being walking advertisements for a movie. You almost had to physically push Ben out of the hotel on the first morning you were there. He was reluctant to leave you but, being lead actor, couldn’t exactly skip work. At any rate, you wouldn’t let him. It wasn’t so bad spending the day holed up in his suite. You went back to bed after he’d left and then, once properly rested, put music on as you caught up on emails and the like. In the afternoon you popped downstairs to explore the square the suite looked out on, visiting a quaint little bookstore, a shop full of touristy knickknacks, and a cute café that sold maybe the strongest coffee you’d ever had. Having so much time to yourself also gave you a chance to call Felicity and have a long conversation with her, filling her in on exactly what had happened after you got on the plane. She was thrilled to hear it had gone well and took a large part of the credit for herself.   
“Afterall, I was the one who told you to get off your arse. If I hadn’t you’d still be crying in bed,”  
You laughed and conceded she had a point, “but you’re not the only one who gets credit,”  
“Fine, but it’s like 90% down to me.”

But, even with so much to occupy you, by the end of the day you were eager for Ben to get back, bored of being on your own, ready to have the conversation you’d both been too tired to fully have the previous night. When he di[d finally walk through the door it was obvious he was just as keen to see you. You heard the thump of his backpack hitting the floor just inside the door and then him calling your name. He found you on the couch and rushed up behind you, leaning in for a kiss when you tilted your head back to greet him.   
“I love being able to do that,” he said softly as he sat down, making you smile. He asked how your day had been as you shuffled closer, letting him drape an arm around you and pull you against his chest. And for a while that was all you talked about, your day and his, everything you’d got up to. His had been a little busier, working with the stunt coordinator and fight choreographer in the morning so they could film the scene in the afternoon. Completely different from the prep you’d done for _The Perfect Match_ , but you could tell how much he enjoyed it from the way he spoke about it. Even if he did end up with a few bruises as proof of his hard work. Before long though you had to address the question hanging over your heads, had to have _the talk_. It wasn’t an easy conversation. It took some time and meant being open about the previous few months – the insecurities and fears that had kept you from recognising and acting on your feelings, the impact being in the public eye had on you, the pros and cons of dating another actor and, perhaps most importantly, potential challenges you would face because of your previous history. You both readily admitted there’d been some rough moments when you’d handled things poorly and the question had to be asked of if you’d be able to move on from those patches and any wounds they’d caused. Any lingering reservations you had about Ben and his willingness to make it work were quickly put to rest. He was the first to offer up his vulnerabilities, both personal and professional, and discuss the space where they intersected with you. It was all you needed to be fully assured he was in it for the long haul. Of course, you reciprocated his openness with confessions of your own, harder to get out than you’d imagined, but he was patient and leant you a reassuring hand squeeze when you needed it. It wasn’t exactly fun but it was a necessary evil. And by the time you were done you both knew exactly where you stood and were in agreement about how to move forward, making it all worthwhile.

Neither of you felt much like going out afterwards though so you ordered room service, making sure to get a bottle of wine with the food, and celebrated quietly. Ben ran down to the nearest store and bought a few candles to make it seem a little more romantic and promised to take you out on a proper date the next night.   
“So would that be our first date? Or does everything from before count too?” you asked around a mouthful of food, looking at Ben across the candle lit table.  
“Huh, good question. I think it counts,”  
“Really?” you laughed, “I was about to say it doesn’t. It was all planned by other people and not really…real,”  
“Hey, not everything was planned out for us. That date where we painted mugs was all my idea and, might I add, something I’d thought about specifically to impress you. It was on my list of potential dates in case I got the chance to ask you out after we wrapped. Same goes for that brunch place I took you and the ice skating rink. Also those dates were part of what me fall for you so they kind of have to count.”  
You had to smile at that, “When did you know?”  
“Uh,” Ben dropped his gaze to where his hand lay on the table, “Our first date.”  
“Really?”  
“I’d already liked you for a while and then you went and decorated a mug with lyrics from the song I heard every time I looked at you.” It wasn’t until after he’d finished speaking that he lifted his eyes again, giving a small shrug.  
“That’s so ridiculously sweet, Ben, I might have to kiss you about it.”  
“Well I’m a sweet guy Y/N,” he was almost laughing when you made good on your threat, standing up from your side of the table and nearly pouncing on him. He just pulled you further onto his lap, the dinner forgotten as you revelled in the knowledge that making out was allowed now, encouraged even.   
“You wanna move this to the bedroom?” Ben asked, illuminated by the dancing flames more than the lights you’d left on.  
“I don’t normally sleep with a guy on the first date,” you said, pretending to weigh up your options as you twirled a strand of Ben’s hair around your finger.  
“We just agreed it’s not our first date. Closer to our fifty first probably.”  
“Hmmm, you make some good points, babe,”  
His face lit up and you nearly fell of his lap as he sat forward, “are we allowed to do pet names again?”  
You groaned into his shoulder but he just chuckled  
“You wanna move this to the bedroom, cuddle bunny?”  
“I hate you,”  
“No you don’t,” you could tell he was grinning, even with your face buried in the crook of his neck.  
“Little bit.”  
“Aww c’mon cuddle bunny, don’t be like that. I’ll make you feel real good.”  
“I don’t know Ben, you’ve got a lot to live up to.”  
“I do?”  
“You don’t remember? First night I stayed over at yours you made some pretty big claims about what you were capable of. Said if anyone asked I should tell them I came _like three times_ ,” you put air quotes around his words.  
“So you’re saying if I prove that I really am that good, you won’t complain about cuddle bunny or any other nickname I come up with?”  
“I never said that,”  
“You basically did and the challenge has been accepted.”   
You broke into giggles as he pushed you from his lap, only to lurch forward and kiss you, smiling himself. He led you into the next room, discarding clothes along the way.

***

You laughed as you sat on the bed, watching as Ben hopped through the doorway on one foot, trying to kick his pants off his other leg as he went. Your shirt and bra had been lost somewhere between the table and the bed, his shirt discarded even earlier. He gave you a slightly sheepish smile as he finally managed to free himself from the jeans and followed you towards the bed. You leaned back, still on the edge of the bed, propping yourself up on your hands to keep your eyes locked on him and he followed, caught your lips again though softer than before, one hand hovering just above your shoulder, fingertips barely grazing you. It was miles from the first time you’d slept with him, when you’d both been full of alcohol induced confidence and a lack of clear thought. You pushed yourself closer to try and let him know he could be firmer, that you’d like it if he was. Instead he pulled back even more.   
“Is something wrong? Do you not want to do this?”  
“No, no I absolutely do. Just,” he smiled again, the shy half smile that made him seem even more boyish than usual, “you’re gorgeous and I kinda can’t believe this is happening. Again. Just give me a second to let it sink in.”  
“Benjamin I swear, if you start crying,”  
“I’m not going to cry,” he chuckled, “probably.”  
You waited, watched his eyes roam over every inch of you from your hairline to your waist, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. Finally he kissed you again, already almost breathless, his hand cupping your jaw as if he had to work up to touching you elsewhere. Slowly his touch fell lower, neck, collarbone. When he grazed your breast he pulled his hand back again but you hummed at the contact and he replaced it. You stopped holding yourself up, let yourself lay back against the mattress as his lips moved to your throat, his thumb teasing the nipple it found to a stiff peak. It left your hands free to wrap around him, hold him against you.   
“Do you mind if I leave some marks?”  
“Go ahead,” you said, far more concerned about losing the feeling of his mouth on you than what would be left when he was done. You felt him nuzzle his nose against the underside of your jaw, and then a tingle down your spine as he found a spot to leave a large purple bruise, close to where he’d first given you a hickey at your request. You made a low hum and tilted your head to the side, exposing more of your neck to him, and he delighted in filling the space with more marks. Three along the column of your neck, one on your sternum and one on your right breast.   
“How’s it look?” you asked, as he raised his head from your chest.   
“Perfect. But that could just be because your boobs are right in my face. Very nice view.”  
You gave him a light pinch for his cheek but he didn’t react, far more interested in creating another hickey on your chest.  
“Hope you weren’t planning on filming any topless scenes anytime soon,” he mumbled, moving to repeat the process on your other breast, “makeup’ll have a hell of a time covering all these.”

By the time Ben was ready to continue his trail lower you were aching for more. Your underpants were slick with your need, nipples hard as Ben’s saliva caught the cold air he blew over them. Again you were struck by how different to last time it was. Then it had been fast, only minutes between being pushed up against the door and having his fingers in you. But now? Now Ben was taking his time. You understood why, of course. Back then you’d been trying to reach the end before either of you could think for half a second about it being a bad idea. You’d been drunk and clueless about how much you’d both wanted it to happen. All you’d had to do was palm him over his pants and he was raring to go. Not so much this time. He was certainly worked up, you’d found as much when you’d tried to cop a feel. But he stopped you before you got too far, laced his fingers through yours so you couldn’t stroke him off. He responded to your whine with a line about having a reputation to live up to and then let go of your hand as he slipped off your lap to the floor. He made you wait as he tugged your pants from your legs and then left another mark on your hip. You opened your legs wider for him, earning a small nip against your thigh.  
“Wish I’d done this for you last time,” he said softly, kissing the spot that was still tingling from the scrape of his teeth.   
You propped yourself up on your elbows to watch, “If you’d done this last time I’d have confessed my love a whole lot faster. Could-coluld’ve saved me the cost of the flight here.” You voice shook as he pressed his tongue to your soaked underwear and you briefly wished you’d packed some actual lingerie and not just your every-day sensible cotton knickers, but Ben clearly didn’t mind.   
“Cute panties,” he said between sucks through the material, “that wet patch from your pussy or my mouth?” He laughed as he pulled them off you, dropping them unceremoniously to the side as he sat up higher on his knees.

The next thing you knew was Ben’s fingers on either side of your lips, pulling you open. He glanced up at you, grinned when you whined softy, didn’t break eye contact as he dragged his tongue over you. No more build up, no more playful comments as he took his time exploring you. Just his mouth on you, determinedly pushing you to the edge. You let your head fall back with a squeak as he nudged your clit with his nose, following it up by sucking the nub into his mouth, pulling a moan from you. Your breath caught when he slid two fingers along your slit, coating them in your arousal and a whiny expletive was your response to one entering you. Ben pulled back and gave you a wink as he added another finger. You’d have told him off for being so cocky if you hadn’t felt so good. Instead you fell back to the mattress completely.  
“That feel good baby?” He asked between licks, stretching you out, trying to find the same spot he’d reached last time.   
“So good Ben,”  
“I love the way you say my name.” He pressed a third finger into you, shifted the angle slightly, and without thinking you twisted a hand into his hair, let him hear his name again. He hummed though you weren’t sure what caused it, only that it felt incredible, his lips wrapped around your clit. With soft encouragement he made you tip over the edge, squirming under him as you rode it out. He was gentle when he pulled his fingers from you and left a kiss against your thigh, waiting for you to come back to earth before he began gloating.  
“That’s one. How do you want the next? Same thing?”  
It took you a moment to figure out what he meant but he filled the time by kissing a path back up to your lips, shorter than the trip down had taken.  
“Well? What next?” he asked again when it seemed like you weren’t going to reply.  
“I could blow you,” you said, once again dropping your hand to try and rub him through his underwear.  
“Save that for another time. I’ve got a promise to make good on and an adorable nickname to give you.”  
“I was hoping you’d say that. Really want you in my pussy.”  
Ben laughed and leaned in to kiss you again, evidence from your orgasm still on his lips and chin, before pushing himself away to finish undressing. You watched him closely, taking in the V that was exposed and the light trail of hair leading under his waistband, the way his thumbs hooked into the material, the slightly theatrical wiggle he made to shake his pants off, how the second he was free of the fabric his hand came up to stroke over his length, seeking some brief relief. He turned away to grab a condom and you made yourself comfortable on the bed, moving to lay back against the pillows rather than hanging over the edge. And then Ben was practically diving on top of you, making you giggle as he kissed you again and again and again. Until he stopped to sit back on his legs, tearing open the condom with his teeth.  
“Can I?” you asked, pulling your lip between your teeth.  
“Sure,”   
As Ben nodded you sat forward, took the condom from him and closed your other hand around him.  
“Shhhhit,” he breathed out,” “C’mon babe, ‘m already h-hard. Just wanna be in you.”  
You hummed in agreement but took your time rolling the latex down his shaft as you pulled him into another kiss, thoroughly enjoying the noises he made in response. Soft throaty sounds, little whines muffled by your lips. You would have been happy just jerking him off except for the needy throbbing between your legs that made you hyper aware of how empty you were.   
“Lie back for me,” he said softly as soon as you pulled your hand away. You did as requested, settling back against the pillows once more. Ben nudged your legs open wider and finally sank into you, both of you gasping at the feeling. You moaned softly when he slowly pulled back and thrust forward again, wrapped your legs around him because it was the only way you could think of to get him closer. Carefully he took one of your hands in his, laced his fingers through yours and then repeated it with the other hand, holding them against the mattress as he fucked into you.   
His forehead dropped to yours as he let a curse slip into the air, “Didn’t a-appreciate your pussy enough last time. So fucking tight.”  
You couldn’t think how to respond, just squeezed his hands, your breath catching in your throat as he rolled his hips against you. He kept the pace steady as he caught your lips again, less coordinated kisses that didn’t always get you full on the mouth as you moved with each measured thrust. Each one seemed to make it harder for you to breathe, your breaths coming in short pants, often accompanied by small whiny noises as you felt yourself getting close again.  
“Yeah?” Ben asked against your ear, a response to a particularly drawn out whine, “that good, huh?”  
If you’d been able to form coherent sentences you would have come up with some sort of witty way to tell him you needed more stimulation to actually get off. Instead all you managed to do was stumble through the words _close, please, more_ as he nibbled on your earlobe.   
“Show me,” he rasped, releasing one of your hands so you could slip it between your bodies. I wasn’t long before the speed of your fingers on your clit outstripped Ben’s movement, your growing need to finish pushing you to rub faster, press harder. He groaned into your neck as you finally hit the edge and pulsed around him, pulled out before it became too much. You let your legs fall from where you’d hooked them around him though you whined at the loss.   
“Don’t worry,” he said softly as he took your hand and lifted it from your cunt, “more where that came from.” Ben pulled your hand towards him, leaning in to close the gap and suck your fingers into his mouth. You were sure you could have cum from that alone if he hadn’t already made you cum twice.

It didn’t make it easy to catch your breath or calm down entirely, but Ben was content to wait, thoroughly cleaning your fingers before he released them. He pressed a kiss to the inside of your wrist before he let you take your hand back.  
You let out a shaky breath as you looked up at him and almost laughed, “Jesus,”  
He stroked your leg gently, “Still one more to go, if you’re up for it. Not too sensitive?”  
“A little but I should be okay.”  
“Good. I really wanna give you that nickname. Annoy everyone else with how fucking adorable we are”  
“Shouldn’t have reminded me what the stakes are, maybe I am too sensitive,”

“What if I said I just wanted to fuck you until _I_ cum then? More acceptable?”  
That did make you laugh, “Much more acceptable.”  
Ben grinned, his tongue darting out from between his teeth, and then readjusted your position. His arm wrapped around your hips, pulling you up into the air, as he leaned on the other and slid back in, deeper than before.   
“This okay?”  
“Y-yeah, yes,”  
As soon as he knew you were okay with the new position he began moving, faster than before. The angle he held you in meant he was hitting your sweet spot consistently which, aside from feeling good, meant your clit got a bit of a break. It felt even better when he dropped his head forward and gently tugged on your nipple with his teeth. You brought one hand up to grab his hair as he switched to soothing the nipple with his tongue. You had a hard time getting out anything other than a few curses and his name as his thrusts became more urgent but Ben had no trouble telling you how good you felt. Well, some trouble. His words came out stuttered and breathless and interrupted by curses of his own or sometimes muffled by your breasts. But that was a turn on in itself. Hearing Ben losing control, coming apart, because of you. It was enough to make you want to cum faster so you could hear him moan through his own release. You remembered what he sounded like last time and were eager to hear it again. So once again you let your fingers find your clit, shivering at the slight discomfort as you tried to match Ben’s rhythm.   
“God I’m gonna,” you managed to choke out, fingers tightening in Ben’s hair.  
“P-please Y/N, cum. I ne-ed you to cum.”  
Your voice caught in your throat as you tipped over the edge again, Ben doing his best to hold you up as he lasted about a second longer, pretty moans spilling from his lips.

***

Afterwards you could barely find it in you to move. You stumbled on jelly legs towards the bathroom as Ben cleared away the condom and straightened the sheets, ready for you to curl up with him. You had just enough energy to fall into bed and lean your head on his chest. He pulled the covers over your legs and stroked your hair with one hand, his fingers catching in the odd tangle though he was careful not to pull too hard. His other hand smoothed up and down your arm, so gently it took you a few passes to notice. He was quiet for a while, watching you relax against him. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, “Think that means I win, right cuddle bunny? Or do you prefer honey bunch? Snuggle bug? Sugar bear? I could go on,”  
“I think cuddle bunny might actually be the lesser of all those evils,” you mumbled.  
“You sure that’s not cause you got used to it and now you kinda like it?”  
You gave a non-committal hum in response.  
Ben’s chest shook as he laughed but he protested when you made to sit up, assuring you he liked having you leaning on him like that, “Told you before, I like being the boyfriend and what kind of a boyfriend would I be if I didn’t let you use me as a pillow?”  
You couldn’t help but smile when you heard Ben refer to himself that way, happily settling back against him. He was right, the title suited him. You couldn’t wait to introduce him as such to Felicity and your other friends.

You stayed in Barcelona with Ben for a few weeks. Once or twice you snuck a peek at a gossip blog or a twitter hashtag, but most people’s attention seemed to be diverted from you onto other unlucky couples. There were a few threads about you not being home and a handful of photos of Ben and other cast mates taken from their Instagram accounts, sometimes accompanied by speculation of if their relationship was purely professional, but nothing much else. You were both thankful for that. It was easier to find your feet as an actual real couple without being hounded about it or seeing speculation about yourselves. You were free to visit restaurants and tourist spots on dates, explore the city together on days Ben wasn’t filming, just be more or less normal. A few times you accompanied Ben to set or out with the rest of the cast, listening in as they teased him for how much happier he was now that you’d arrived. There were a couple of sticky beak questions about the breakup the first time you joined them for dinner, but you laughed it off as nothing more than misinformed rumours and they readily believed you. Aside from being contractually obligated to keep the secret, it was just easier to pretend the previous few months had been real than try to explain it all. Of course, pretending was made all the easier by Felicity and Joe knowing. Joe had been happy when Ben told him the good news. He’d been a little annoyed too and threated Ben with the silent treatment, claiming it’s what he deserved for being so stupid, the sudden click of him hanging up startling you both. Ben’s phone rang again about thirty seconds later as Joe called back to claim responsibility for your reunion.   
“I totally knew you idiots liked each other and if I hadn’t helped, Y/N never would have got to Spain.”  
Ben leaned in to where his phone rested on the table, speaker on, “If you knew why didn’t you tell me she was into me?”  
“Pretty sure I tried! But you were too hung up on being all heartbroken to listen to me.”  
“Umm incorrect,”  
“Should have heard yourself man, _boo hoo Y/N doesn’t love me like I love her_ , wah wah wah. Didn’t want to hear anything else.”  
Ben flashed you a disapproving look when you let out a snort of laughter and then turned back to the phone, “You’re such a dickhead,”  
“Call me cupid, Benny boy, I’m the reason you’re not crying in the shower anymore.”   
“You’re fucking full of it, cupid,”  
“Go on Y/N, tell him I’m right,”  
“Well,” you said, trying not to laugh again, “Joe did tell me where to find you,”  
“Exactly!” came the shout from the phone, “Y/N, I’ll give you some of the credit for actually flying to Spain, but It’s like 85% down to me.”  
“You should meet my friend Felicity. You’d get along.”

On quieter days when everyone was doing their own thing and neither of you felt much like leaving the suite, you’d sit around and help Ben learn his lines or stretch over his lap and work on a crossword puzzle together. Although, that was if you made it out of bed. Ben ran through his condoms in the first week you were there, both of you eager to make up for the missed opportunities and all the time you’d spent pining for each other. More than once he came back to the hotel to find you wearing nothing but one of his shirts, which invariably ended with him between your legs in one way or another. Or, when he was flushed and sweaty from whatever action scene he’d been filming that day, he’d slyly announce he needed a shower and suggest you join him. But eventually the real world called, quite literally, in the form of Mary letting you know you’d got the part in the witch movie. It deserved a celebratory drink out at a bar the cast had found, where you and Ben riled each other up so much you had no choice but to relieve the tension the minute your door was shut behind you. And then again first thing the next morning. Unfortunately, you couldn’t stay more than a few days after that. You had to fly back home and begin prepping for your new role. Thankfully it was being filmed around London, saving you from having to head out to the US straight after getting home from Spain. But it did mean leaving Ben, an occurrence neither of you were thrilled about, feeling like you’d not had as much time together as you would have liked. You decided to do something special for your last night so Ben booked a table at a nearby restaurant. He met you there straight from set, wearing nice pants and a dressy shirt rather than the trackpants and ratty tee you'd seen him in that morning, where you surprised him with a bouquet of flowers similar to those he’d given you on your make-up date so long before.   
“I love them,” Ben laughed, kissing your cheek as he pulled you into a hug, “I think the colours make my eyes pop,”  
You playfully shoved him away towards the restaurant but he grabbed your hand and pulled you against him. He was about to kiss you when a familiar clicking sound distracted him. Both you and Ben looked around, surprised and confused, and saw a young woman walking down the street, fingers quickly taping against her phone. Ben ushered you inside the restaurant and, as soon as you took your seats, pulled out his phone.   
“Bad news. She tweeted it.”  
“Guess that means the honeymoon’s over,” you sighed.  
“And we were so close too. Fucking busted with about 10 hours to go.”  
“Oh well. S’pose everyone was gonna find out anyway. If it wasn’t now it would have been in a few weeks when you get back home.”  
“Not like we aren’t used to it. So how about,” he poured you both a glass of water from the bottle on the table, “a toast. To being so fucking interesting the whole world wants to know if we’re fucking.”  
You laughed as you clinked your glass against his a took a sip.

The pre-production part of your new movie kept you busy which had its pros and cons. On one hand it was tiring and a lot of new information to take in. On the other it kept you distracted from the distance between you and Ben and the barrage of questions you were receiving about him daily. You met the women who were playing your sisters and spent a lot of time rehearsing with them, particularly focused on learning how to pronounce the spells you’d be casting and the names of the potions you’d be mixing. Ben chuckled when you told him you’d spent an hour being coached on how to pronounce a single word, a process which included a basic Latin lesson and lots of repetition.  
“Well at least I didn’t end up with a black eye from it,” you said, pointing at him through the video chat screen. Over the weeks you’d been apart you’d relied heavily on phone conversations and face time calls to keep in contact. There’d been a visit or two when you had the chance but both of you were busy and keen not to be splashed through every gossip rag around so they were few and far between. The calls were easier, more private, and quickly became part of your wind down routine – come home, snuggle up on the couch, and talk to Ben for a few hours.  
“Hardly having fun if you can’t accidentally get knocked out by a poorly thrown weapon,”  
“I beg to differ, but you do you Benny,” you laughed, reaching for your coffee. The mug Ben had painted for you. He smiled when he saw it.  
“Aside from learning Latin and not being beaten up on a daily basis, how’s the movie going?” Ben asked as he reached behind him to adjust the pillow he was leaning against.   
“God it's been so good so far. The girls are so lovely and fun to be around. Plus, y’know, as someone who spent a lot of her childhood making mud potions in the backyard and playing Harry Potter, getting to run around throwing spells and stuff is kind of a dream come true.”  
He laughed again, “you’re such a nerd, I love you.”   
“Shut up. How’s it going in Spain?”  
“Well I have a black eye and I miss you so... Nah, it’s all going really well. Copped a bit of shit after you left,” Ben rolled his eyes, “apparently I was depressed. But this shoot has been so good. Gonna be kinda sad to be done.”  
“How much longer have you got?”  
“Couple of weeks, I think.”  
“You should come over to mine when you land, I’ll cook you dinner,”  
“Yeah? I’d like that.”  
“Course you will, nice home cooked meal, a blowjob, what’s not to like.”  
“I’ll let you know when my flight is so you can prepare – buy ingredients, do jaw stretches. What’re you laughing for? I’m serious, we both know how big I am.” He laughed, breaking the façade of seriousness as his tongue stuck out between his teeth.   
“Are you ready for it?”  
“Beyond ready, I miss sex.”  
“Not what I meant. There were a few paps waiting for me at the airport last time I was coming back from visiting you. Mostly yelling questions about if we’re really back together.”  
“How bad is it?”  
“Not as much attention as we were getting while we were doing press for the movie but it’s pretty annoying.”  
“They’ll calm down. After they see us a few times and they find someone else to lose their shit over.”  
“Yeah, probably. But you’re still good with this happening, even with the extra attention?”  
“Y/N, babe, we talked about this already. We always knew it was likely to happen and nothing’s changed since then. I still want to be with you.”  
“Just checking,”  
“I know. Now, I don’t have to be on set for another half hour so why don’t you tell me more about this blowjob I can expect.”

Ben was right, though it took longer to die down than you’d have liked. Felicity alerted you to a number of articles both in print and online after Ben got home. It almost felt like the days of promoting _The Perfect Match_ – photos of you walking hand in hand and sitting at cafes and sneaking kisses on street corners being tweeted and commented on, articles about your latest date and speculation on if another breakup with imminent. The difference was this time you didn’t recognise the people taking the pictures. But, after a month or so, when it became clear you weren’t going to start arguing in fancy French restaurants again the magazines and websites started posting less and less.   
“It’s like Mary said,” Ben shrugged when you brought it up, “people like conflict and we’re not giving them any.”  
And that was true. Without the pressure of keeping your feelings hidden from each other or yourselves you were less prone to sulky silences and terse words. Plus no one was telling you to break up for attention. In fact, the months after Ben came back from Spain were better than you’d let yourself believe they would be. You were still working on the witch movie, working title: _Toil and Troubles_ , spending most days and some nights bent over cauldrons of smoking liquid nitrogen and pink slime, or running through forests hoping your pronunciation was correct. Ben visited, sometimes to take you out to lunch or to drop off items you’d left at his place that you were bound to need. Convenient excuses. But welcome nonetheless. At the very least it was good practice for when you introduced him to your friends and family. Felicity insisted on meeting the man who’d caused her best friend so much heartache within the first week of his arrival, a situation that gave you more anxiety than any of the paparazzi ever would. But your worries were for nothing. Ben was perfectly charming and took Felicity’s one or two snide comments with good grace and a suitable amount of remorse. She pulled you aside later to let you know she approved and could see why you liked him so much. You breathed a sigh of relief at that, not needing her approval but glad to have it anyway. That first meeting made you less nervous about the ones that followed, even when it came to your blood relatives. And then, of course, you had to make good on your promise to his mum. He’d had to smooth things over with his family first, having made such a big deal about breaking up with you before he took off to Spain. They’d been surprised when he told them things weren’t working, having believed you quite happy during your visit, and more surprised when they saw you were back together. But if they thought Ben was making a mistake with rekindling the romance they didn’t show it. Angela and Keith welcomed you back to their home with warm smiles and more food than the four of you could eat. You left, still giggling at some of Ben’s baby photos, with a plate of leftovers in one hand and an invitation to come back soon.

It wasn’t until after _Toil and Troubles_ wrapped that you decided to move in together. Ben suggested it casually one night while you were eating dinner in front of a rerun of Friends, the one where Chandler moves in with Monica. The suggestion was accompanied by a joke about how you’d been dating for nearly a year if you counted all the _Perfect Match_ stuff, but you knew he wasn’t really joking. You’d been thinking about it too. You flipped a coin to see who’d be selling their place and didn’t complain when it was you. Ben’s house was already your second home, might as well make it your only one. Luckily, with your movie having started post-production, neither of you were filming and so were free to jump into the process of packing and decluttering and moving. It wasn’t long before you were carrying a box of your clothes up the stairs of Ben’s house, your house now. He followed with another, dumping it in the middle of his living room and telling Felicity to put hers down with it as he ran out to help one of his mates with a bookshelf. The requisite pizza was bought for lunch and beer provided as thanks for everyone’s help before they left, leaving you and Ben with a living room full of boxes and no inclination to go through them. Instead you weaved your way through the blockades, flopping, exhausted, onto the couch. You stretched out, Ben laughing as he lay on you, his head on your chest.  
“Just a little break,” he said with a yawn and before you knew it you’d both dozed off, warn out from the days exertions.

You woke to Ben digging through the box closest to your head.  
“Which one of these has all your kitchenware?” he asked when he saw you watching him.  
“Should say kitchen on the top in blue sharpie, why?”  
He stood up and walked to another stack, shifting a box off the top of the pile, muttering the word kitchen to himself over and over. You let him search, taking a moment to stretch out the stiffness from napping on the couch.   
“Did you see those magazines Felicity left?” he asked as he moved another box out of the way.  
“No, where are they?”  
“Kitchen bench. You’ll laugh.”  
You ducked into the kitchen and opened the first one, a copy of _Woman’s Weekly_ , flicking through the pages until you were met with an image of you and Ben walking down the street together. He was looking at his phone and you were talking, head turned toward him. A red circle drew attention to your hand and underneath it was a slightly blurry close up of the same section. Scanning the paragraphs beside the photos the word _engaged_ jumped out at you making you snort.  
“Knew you’d find it funny,” Ben said, peeking over your shoulder.  
“It’s not even a proper ring, just some cheap costume jewellery. And it’s on the wrong finger. Bloody hell they’re desperate.”   
“Look at the other one,” Ben stuck the kettle on to boil, glancing over to watch you as he opened his cupboard of mugs. You pulled the issue of _Heat_ out and riffled through its pages too.   
“Oh my god,”   
Ben laughed, “I know right! Pregnant, really?”  
“I’m never wearing that dress again. In fact I’m going to go find whichever box it’s in and throw it in the donations bag right now,”  
Ben caught you around the waist before you could take a step, “Don’t do that cuddle bunny,” he pouted, “I love you in that dress. One of my favourites.”   
“Because it’s easy to take off?”  
“Because you look cute in it. Being easy to take off is just a bonus,” he pulled you in close and kissed you as you laughed, “speaking of, with you moving in we’ll have to give you a proper welcome. I’m thinking start up against the front door, work out way through every room,” he pinched your bum suddenly, just to emphasise what he meant.   
“Cool your jets horndog, gotta move boxes out of the way before we can even get to the front door. And I think I need a coffee before I even think about sorting boxes.”  
“It’s a good thing I was about to make us coffee then. I found your kitchenware by the way.”  
You looked for the first time at the counter where Ben had set out the makings of coffee. There, amongst the canister of sugar and bottle of milk sat two mugs. The two mugs you’d decorated for each other, side by side.


	9. Ben POV - 14 Short Scenes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 14 scenes as told from Ben's Perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's like super duper late but here is the final chapter of this series that I promised! Basically just a collection of blurbs (maybe a few oneshot length parts too) that tell the story from the other side. Some are his point of view of things that occurred in the main chapters, some fill in gaps that reader wasn't around for. Expect lots of angst and badly handled feelings. 
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing from a perspective I don't normally write from! It was a bit of a challenge at times but definitely something I'd like to do again.

“Pick up Joe, pick up,” Ben mumbled to himself, pacing around his trailer. The phone rang out and he let out a grunt of annoyance as he switched to text message.

**I fucked up. Call me.**

It was an anxious ten-minute wait in which Ben found it hard to sit still or focus on anything other than what a colossal mistake he’d made. He tried to go over his lines instead, tried to focus on the next scene you’d be filming together but all he could think about was you. You and how badly he’d fucked up. Finally Joe put him out of his misery.  
“Thank Christ,”  
“Sorry I was asleep,” a yawning Joe said from the other end of the line, “What happened that you needed to contact me at 6am?”  
“I said yes,”  
“To?”  
“Joe, I know it’s early for you but please try to keep up. I said _yes_.”  
There was a pause as Joe tried to work out what Ben meant and then realisation dawned, “Nooooo,”  
“Yes. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. Oh my god,”  
Joe groaned, sympathetic, “You said yes? To the fake dating schtick?”  
“I wasn’t going to,”  
“I should fucking hope not. After everything we talked about yesterday? After we agreed it was a horrible idea?”  
“I know! I know,” Ben had to pause to gulp in a breath, his chest suddenly feeling too tight to handle the oxygen, “I was going to say no. I came in with a plan to say no and it was on the tip of my tongue for the entire meeting. They were going through these pages explaining it all and all of the rules we’d have to follow and I was ready to say no, I was going to say no,”  
“So what happened?”  
Ben flopped down onto his couch, the one he liked to nap on when time allowed, running his hand through his hair as he spoke, “I looked over at her and my mind clouded over and I said yes,”  
“Did she ask you to?”  
“Nope. I think she knew what I was thinking through the whole thing, she seemed shocked when I agreed to it. Fuck, why did I say yes?”  
“Cause you’re a fucking idiot.”  
“You can say that again,”  
“I could but I won’t.” Joe exhaled slowly into the receiver, “Jesus man,”  
“Yup. You wanna know the worst part though?”  
“Agreeing to it wasn’t the worst part?”  
“I’m not totally disappointed,”  
“Ben,” Joe sounded mildly horrified so Ben hurried to explain.  
“I mean, I know it’s bad. I know there were a thousand ways to better handle it...sticking to the plan and asking her out after we wrapped being the least of them. But...I have date ideas picked out already. There’s this wine and art place she’d love and the ice-skating rink and I’d love to take her to that Chinese restaurant near me. And I’m kind of happy I have an excuse to look at her now, touch her. I don’t have to worry about if she’s caught me staring or if I’m doing a bad job of hiding my feelings because everyone’s going to think we’re dating anyway so what’s the fucking harm,”  
“Alright Ben, I’m gonna stop you there. You need to get this shit under control. I suggest going to a bar, getting drunk, and getting into the pants of the first girl who talks to you.”  
“Can’t,”  
“Oh don’t give me that bullshit. You’re not so hung up on this Y/N chick that you can’t think about sleeping with someone else, are you?”  
“Doesn’t matter, I literally can’t unless I want everyone to think I’m cheating on her. Don’t think that’d go down well with the studio or anyone else really. They’d crucify me for fucking up the plan after less than a day.”  
“Would you have followed my advice even if that wasn’t the case?”  
Ben mad a non-committal noise, “Probably not. I just want her,”  
“Doesn’t she have a boyfriend? I distinctly remember you whining about a boyfriend.”  
“Apparently it was never that serious. He was boring.”  
“You’re boring too Ben. Hate to break it to you but you’re dull, unexciting, tedious. She’s not going to want to date you either. Might as well give up now,”  
“Have you got a thesaurus sitting in your lap?”  
Joe laughed despite himself, “I thought this was going to be a crush Ben. Short lived.”  
“Me too. It’s not though. I can’t get her out of my mind. When I’m with her I don’t want to leave and then when I have to leave all I can think about is when I’ll next see her. She’s so wonderful and beautiful and kind-hearted. She likes pulling faces at me from behind the camera and she’s got the cutest laugh…When she’s nervous about a scene she bounces her leg. Every time. And she’s so sweet to everyone on set, always chatting with whoever is around and making jokes and stuff. I want to make her laugh. I want to calm her when she’s nervous. I want her.”  
“Maybe you should just tell her how you feel now. I know you wanted to wait until after the movie but I think that horse has bolted,”  
“I can’t tell her now, are you insane? If I tell her now she’ll call up her agent and cancel the whole fake dating thing and she’ll never want to see me again,”  
“Maybe she wants to date you too,”  
“Nope. She literally said to me she wouldn’t date me in real life,” Ben paused, thinking, “d’you reckon there’s a chance she might fall for me too? Like, with the whole pretending to date thing? Maybe I could convince her I’d be a good boyfriend,”  
“Don’t get your hopes up Ben,”  
“You’re right. She’s not going to change her mind about me. We’re friends and that’s it. And I’ve just gotta focus on finishing this movie and getting through the whole relationship without her figuring anything out.”  
“I don’t envy you, buddy.”

***

It took Ben a few moments of lying in the dark to remember why he felt so nervous first thing in the morning. But the waiting message from Peter about what time the photographer would arrive was enough to remind him. He lay there a little longer, trying to prepare himself for everything, trying to convince himself that seeing you first thing in the morning would be enough of a turn off to stop him from feeling the way you made him feel. It didn’t work, the convincing or the seeing you. If anything, seeing you yawning as you left his spare room just made it all the worse. You, in his pyjamas. It made his stomach flip. He found it hard to pull his eyes from you as you drank your coffee, found it hard to not enjoy the sight of you in his pyjamas in his kitchen. You’d never been there before but you didn’t feel out of place. He could imagine other mornings, making pancakes together, you with a spot of batter on your nose that he’d wipe away and replace with a kiss, or else making you the first tea or coffee of the day and bringing it to you in bed, snuggling under the covers with you, your head resting on his chest as you talked quietly about whatever was happening that day. But planning out how you’d look for the camera was a sharp reminder that it wasn’t real, that you were only there because of work.

“And, um, he was very careful in how he worded it, but they want us to look like we fucked. Also I told them I’d take you home so there may be someone waiting for us there too, he never got back to me on it.”  
“Shit, okay. Umm, guess I’ll just wear this then?” he watched as you indicated the pyjamas you’d borrowed, his pyjamas, “might lose the pants though, help sell it a bit more.”  
“Yeah, guess so,” Ben had to clear his throat and avert his eyes, terrified that you’d be able to see what he was thinking, willing himself to stop thinking about helping you out of them.  
“What time is it?”  
He glanced at the oven, thankful to have even the smallest of diversions, “Twenty past eight,”  
“God I haven’t been up this early on a weekend in months.”  
“Not one for farmers markets or anything then?” This was a better topic. Boring, safe.  
“Not really. Much prefer lying in bed doing nothing.”  
 _Shit_ , “Me too,” he laughed, trying not to imagine you in his bed in just his shirt (fuck the pants they were too big for you anyway).  
“We’re meant for each other,”  
Ben took another sip of coffee to keep from groaning. You had no idea what you were doing to him and he wasn’t going to be the one to tell you. Not now at any rate. He’d killed any chance of anything happening when he’d agreed to this stunt and now he had to suck it up and deal with it.  
“Did you want to have a shower or anything?”  
“Nah, you can if you want though,”  
“Might as well wait until I get home. But I am gonna clean my teeth, especially if we have to kiss.”  
Jesus, the kiss, he’d almost forgotten about that, “Maybe mess up your hair too, make it look like you didn’t sleep much.” _This is dangerous territory._  
“Well how could I when you’re such a good lover,”  
 _Oh god oh god oh god_ , “I know you’re joking but if anyone asks, I’m incredible. You came like three times,”  
“Did I now?”  
“Of course,”  
“Good thing no one’s gonna ask then, don’t think I’m great at lying,”  
Ben wanted to stop, wanted to switch back to talking about farmers markets and breakfast options but he didn’t seem to have control over himself anymore, “Besides, it’s not really a lie, I am that good. You just haven’t experienced it personally.”  
You poked your tongue out at him as you turned back towards the bathroom. As soon as he heard the door shut Ben collapsed forward against the kitchen counter, leaning on his palms as he grappled with what had just happened. He’d need to keep his wits about him from now on. Flirting like that couldn’t happen again, he’d been lucky that you'd treated it like friendly banter. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to drown out the voice that suggested you’re lack of awareness was proof of how disinterested you were. It was only when he heard the bathroom door swing open again that he forced himself to move.

“How do I look?” you asked as you re-entered the room.  
 _Can’t avoid looking at her now, she wants your opinion,_ “Gorgeous.” It was true. Everything you’d done to make yourself look like you’d had a late night just made you even more desirable. The messed up hair, the smudge of makeup around your eyes. He gulped when he noticed the undone buttons of the flannel shirt, just enough to tease, and the missing pants. _Tell her you want to pin her to the wall and undo the rest of those buttons. Tell her you want to wake up to that sight every morning._  
“But do I look like I’ve been thoroughly fucked?”  
“Oh, right, ummm,” he gave you another cursory look, trying not to linger on any part of you for too long, “yes, I think so,”  
“I feel like there’s something missing,” suddenly you turned on your heel and stepped back towards the bathroom. Ben waited where you’d left him until, “Oh! I know. Might be taking it a bit far though.”  
Clearly he was supposed to be part of this conversation, so he followed you to the doorway, stepped just over the threshold, “What is it?”  
You were scrutinising your appearance in the mirror and he let himself watch your reflection, “what if you gave me a hickey?”  
Ben’s breath caught in his throat though he managed to stutter out your name.  
“Yeah, I know, that’s a weird thing to ask. Don’t worry, I think we’ll be fine without it,”  
He inhaled deeply wondering if your backtracking was a sign that you’d worked out what was going on in his head. He couldn’t let that happen. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t _want_ to give you a love bite, though he’d prefer to be covering you in them. Slowly, he let the breath go again, “no, you’re right. A hickey will definitely make it look more authentic,”

“It’s not totally inappropriate for me to ask?”  
 _Babe this whole thing is inappropriate_ , “No, no, we have to make it look legit. Here, I’ll uhhh,” With another, less than steady, breath, he stepped behind you, close enough that you were practically leaning against him. His heart began to beat faster, his stomach did summersaults. Carefully he wrapped his arm around your waist to steady himself, pull you closer, as he pushed your hair to the side. He glanced at your reflection, waiting for you to stop him, to notice his shaky fingers and burning skin and to jump away from him. But you didn’t. You let him lean in, let him press his lips to your neck, let him mark you. He felt your own breath speed up, felt you tilt your head, inviting more. And then. It was only a small hum, but it had definitely come from you. He glanced at the mirror again, saw you had your eyes shut. You liked it. He was giving you a hickey and you were enjoying it. This might be his only chance to do that, to make you feel that way. He refocused on your neck, where his lips met your skin, soothing the fresh brand with his tongue.  
He could happily have given you ten more, was tempted to go in for a second at least. Instead he let you go, stepped backwards as quickly as he could manage. If he waited too long he’d end up saying something he’d regret.  
“Will that do?”  
“It’s great Ben really ties the whole look together,”  
He tried to match your smile though it felt like there was a warning siren going off in his head, “Good. Good. Okay then, I’ll umm, what time is it?”  
“Just after nine. Wonder if the photographer is here yet,”  
“I think I will jump in for that shower actually, by the time I’m done he will definitely be here,” he needed some time to compose himself before he even thought about stepping outside the door with you, “Make yourself comfortable though, watch some TV or something.”  
“Alright. Thanks for being so cool about all this. I know you’re a little sceptical about the benefits and everything.”  
“It’s fine Y/N, no need for any of that,” he forced another smile as you left but the moment you’d pulled the door shut it slipped again. Slowly he made his way to the tap, splashed his face with cold water. His fingers still tingled where they’d rested against you. The echo of your hum was stuck in his head. Your perfume still lingered in the air.  
“Fuck,” Ben directed the curse at his reflection, unsure any other word could sum up better than that. The fact that you didn’t want him was fucked, having you here looking the part of the perfect girlfriend was fucked, giving you a hickey for the performance was fucked. And the fact that he was sporting a semi from it was really just the cherry on top of his totally fucked sundae. He couldn’t go back out to you in such a state, especially not when you were going to have to make out for the camera. A shower to relieve himself was the only answer, though he felt bad about you being only a couple of rooms over.

With a final prayer that you wouldn’t overhear or work out why he’d changed his mind about the shower, he turned the taps on and began undressing, wincing a little as he stuck his arm under the scalding hot water. With some adjustment he was able to fully step into the shower, pausing for a moment to relax under the steady beat of the water before reaching for the soap. Of course, you were on his mind as he wrapped his hand around his cock and slowly started stroking himself. The way you looked in his shirt, the swell of your breasts just barely exposed, tantalisingly so. The hem of the shirt draped over your bare thighs. You’d make such a sight dressed like that, lying in his bed, the sheets tangled around your legs. Better still his legs tangled between yours. He thought of the hum you made as he’d sucked at your throat. On the verge of a whine, maybe even a moan. Would you whine if his lips were on your chest instead? What about your thighs, leaving a trail up to… His breathing was faster now, hand moving at a similar speed. _We’re made for each other_. Your voice, your words. You’d say it, half pant it, while he was inside you. _Made for each other_. And you’d hum that hum of pleasure. Your thighs, under his shirt. His arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close as he pulled your hair aside. _What if you gave me a hickey?_ The warmth of your body leaning against his, such a contrast to the cool bathroom tiles. That hum. Those thighs. The way you say his name. _Made for each other_. Your lingering perfume. Your lingering warmth. Your lingering hum. His name on your tongue.  
He bit his lip to keep from making any sound as he came onto the floor of the shower. It took Ben a few moments to right his breathing, eyes pressed shut so he could hold onto the fantasy for just a little longer. But he knew he didn’t have the time. _At least you get to kiss her again_. He rushed through washing his hair, scrubbing himself clean. As he stepped out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and swiped his palm over the fogged-up mirror. He forced himself to smile, tried to make it seem natural but that just made it feel more fake. Maybe you wouldn’t notice. With a final exhale he left the bathroom, heading towards his bedroom to find some clean clothes. Your laugh cut through the mostly quiet house. Something on the tv, a cartoon by the sounds of it, had made you laugh and Ben couldn’t help but smile for real at the sound. It made it all seem worth it. 

***

It had been a bit of an odd week. Everyone at work knew about the relationship and Ben had found himself set upon by well meaning set dressers and ADs who were curious to know when it had started and how they’d kept it such a secret because “seriously Ben, no one suspected anything.” That was nothing to his friends though, who were shocked he’d never brought it up even in passing and who demanded to know when they could meet this secret girlfriend of his.  
“Someone’s gotta tell her about the time you pissed your pants at the fair,”  
“I was seven and had drunk a lot of coke,”  
“Excuses, excuses. What’s your excuse for never mentioning her before?”  
“I thought we were going to play FIFA, not talk about my love life,”  
“We were but that was before we all saw your girlfriend’s arse online,”  
“You can’t see her arse in that shot,”  
“Near enough. And we can definitely see the giant fucking hickey on her neck. Now explain yourself,”  
“Alright _mum_ ,” Ben shook his head, “I mean, you know I don’t normally date people I work with. Neither does she. We both wanted to give our selves some time to see if it worked, to make sure what we thought we were feeling was legit and not on screen emotions carrying over or anything like that.”  
“Well it looks legit judging by photos,”  
“Shut up,” Ben sighed, rolling his eyes, “I actually really like her,”  
“Hey, I have a question. When the fuck have you been seeing this chick? Because your down time is spent with us.”  
“Oh, umm, y’know, after work and stuff. I don’t spend all of my time with you guys,”  
“Uhhh beg to disagree,”  
Ben tried to keep his tone normal though his heart was racing. If they figured it out now it could all be over, “Fuck off I have a life outside of you. And just because I was hanging with you guys in the evening doesn’t mean I didn’t see her earlier in the day.”  
“Nooners?”  
“Lunch dates.”  
“Uh huh. Okay, _lunch dates_. She’s a good shag though, right?”  
“Oh yeah, fucking….great shag,”  
“You gotta give us more than that mate,”  
“Sure, okay, but first can one of you kill me,”  
“Boooooo,”  
Ben laughed as he was pelted with crisps, “I’m so going to kick all your arses, now hand me a controller.”

  
The week had also brought him a copy of your rules. He’d taped the sheet to the bottom of his sock draw where no one else was likely to see it but he could still have a daily reminder that none of it was real. Being around you made it easy to forget you weren’t actually his girlfriend, the lines between friendly banter and flirty teasing becoming too blurred. Of course, he also had Joe reminding him to keep his head straight. He’d called after he saw the morning-after photos. The conversation had started with Joe calling Ben a moron but quickly shifted into Ben ranting for close to an hour because he’d, that morning, heard all about the conversation with Felicity and how you’d spent so long talking up his _prowess_. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or scream.  
“Is this some kind of punishment? Did I do something completely fucked up in a past life and now I’m paying for it?”  
“Maybe. Or maybe it’s a lesson on why you don’t agree to something because a pretty girl smiles at you.”  
“Oh bugger off, you’re absolutely no help,”  
“Well what do you want me to do?”  
“I don’t know.”  
“I could talk to her for you.”  
“Mate, that’s you’re worst idea yet.”  
“When’s the date?”  
“This Saturday.”  
“Just keep reminding yourself you’re there as friends. Don’t get sucked in by the act.”  
“I’m trying.”  
Easier said than done, especially when he’d had the date planned for a solid few months. Not officially of course, but in the back of his head. You and him and a bottle of wine as you sat close together and painted. When he imagined the date you wore a sun dress and decorated your canvas or plate, or whatever it was he pictured that time, with little hearts and lipstick kisses. He’d make you laugh with some kind of joke and you’d lean your forehead on his shoulder. Everyone else would melt away as you looked up at him, still smiling. And you’d say something about how you should have realised you loved him sooner.  
“Because I do, Ben, I love you,”  
Which is when he’d kiss you, softly.

Ben shook his head to clear it, focusing back on the script in his hand, though you’d soon distracted him again. The real you, not the fantasy date one. The one who was bouncing her knee and staring off into space.  
He gently touched your shoulder, “Hey, are you okay?”  
“Huh?”  
“You’re jiggling your leg a lot which you only do when something’s worrying you, what is it?”  
“Oh, nothing,”  
He didn’t believe you, “Is it about our date tonight?”  
“What if it’s bad? What if we don’t look like we’re actually together and Mary and Pete have to cancel the whole thing?”  
 _What a blessing that would be. I might actually be able to get over you. I could stop imaging you in my bed,_ “I’d get a decent night sleep not thinking about us,” _  
_“What?”  
 _Shit_. He hadn’t meant to say that last bit out loud, “I’ve been worried about it too.”  
You nodded, your leg twitching as if gearing up to bounce again.  
“But I think we’ll be okay. It’s not like we’ll be starved for conversation and we’ll have the paint and the wine and we’ll be fine. Plus, weren’t you the one who said this would be easy?”  
“Yeah I was, but-”  
“No buts. It’ll be a piece of cake,” Ben didn’t necessarily believe it himself, or at least not for himself. He was going to struggle. But you didn’t have any underlying feelings to fight. For you it really was just a good time painting, “they’ll get whatever shots they get, and they’ll spin it so we look like a couple,”  
“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry,”  
“It’s okay,” before he could stop himself he’d reached for your hand, rubbing the back of it. He wanted to do more, to hold you tight and tell you it would be okay. But that would be too much. Instead he rubbed your hand and tried to distract you, “I’m honestly so much more nervous about shooting that scene tomorrow.”  
“The one where we’re playing matchmaker?”  
“Yes! Have you seen how many names are in there?”  
“Theres like six, Ben,”  
“Yeah but they’re all repeated, and I know I’m going to get the order wrong,”  
You laughed. It was the best sound in the world and he was determined to make sure he heard it again on your date.

It took Ben an hour to decide on an outfit. He’d had one set aside but looking at it in the mirror it felt too dressy, he needed something more casual. He paused for a calming smoke and then had to brush his teeth again. On set he chewed gum after a smoke, especially if there were kissing scenes, out of politeness more than anything. But the small part of him that hoped you were treating the date as an audition for the roll of real-life boyfriend worried that it would hurt his chances if he tasted like cigarettes. Assuming you’d kiss. So he brushed his teeth again and changed into an outfit he didn’t hate and then worried that he was overthinking it and should have gone with his first outfit, and needed another smoke. Which meant he had to brush his teeth a third time. It took all his willpower to not ask the uber to pull over so he could have another quick puff. But then he was at your place and you were there and he wasn’t panicking anymore. Maybe it was because you looked jittery and nervous and something in his brain overrode his own anxiety to ease yours, or maybe you just had that effect on him. Whatever the reason it meant he could focus on helping you relax.  
“D’you wanna grab something to eat?” He was nearly positive you hadn’t eaten yet, too anxious.  
“Uhh, s’pose so,”  
“Has anyone ever told you you’re indecisive?”  
“I swear I’m not normally.”  
“Oh? Do I make you nervous, snookum?” Ben inwardly groaned. _When the fuck did snookum become a thing? Why won’t you stop me Y/N? Please god stop me from flirting with you!_ It was a relief when he made it to the McDonalds without any more slip ups and he could focus on his food and encouraging you to eat yours. He felt things were going well as you walked hand in hand through the bottle shop. He’d squeeze your hand if he felt you tensing up, make you laugh again, distract you. But then you had nudged him and pointed out the photographer.  
“Relax, he’s not important,” he said softly, pulling you into his side, trying to keep his own breathing even. Your face had paled at the sight of the camera, and Ben was hit by an overwhelming urge to protect you. He kept you as close as he could, soothed you as best he could. It became easier once you’d reached the shop and could get lost among the other couples and groups of friends, though he caught you checking for the photographer through the glass of the shop front.  
Ben hesitated for half a second before he turned your head towards him, “Forget the photographer Forget Mary and Peter. Forget our arrangement. We’re just two friends having a fun night out, okay?” This wasn’t the carefree date he’d been fantasising about for months. But he held out hope it still could be. If only he could make you see it. He opened the wine, talked about the art options, anything to distract you from the world outside of the shop. You took a little to warm up but he was glad to see you looking around the room as he went to collect your blank ceramics, taking everything in, and soon enough you were both contemplating designs for mugs, the photographer and the reason for the date seemingly forgotten.

Ben’s hope grew with each passing minute. The longer you were there, the more at ease you became. He got to hear your laugh again, frequently. And the conversation flowed naturally as each of you concentrated on your artwork. The design came to him quickly and he went slow, trying to make his lines as straight as possible and trying to make the engagement ring look like the one you’d spent so much of the shoot wearing. _We’re really good at this dating thing_. Part encouragement to help when you got nervous, part wishful thinking perhaps. But it was a quote from the movie so you wouldn’t read too far into it. He couldn’t wait to see your reaction to the mug and, as soon as he was done, announced it.  
“Alright, show me then,”  
Ben watched closely as you examined the still wet design, chewing on his lip as he tried not to care if you cared that the lines weren’t totally straight or the colours didn’t work. But as soon as you realised what the quote was you smiled. He found himself grinning as you told him how much you loved it.  
“Thought it was kind of fitting. Plus, it’ll be a nice little souvenir once the movie wraps.”  
“That was a fun scene to shoot. Best proposal I’ve ever had,”  
Ben turned the mug back towards himself, double checking for any flaws. He wanted it to be perfect for you, “Best proposal I’ve ever given.” He was on the verge of adding, “My real one will be better though,” but stopped himself short. That would lead to a topic of conversation he didn’t want to deal with. Not with you. Not now.  
He was a little surprised as you leaned in close and lowered your voice.  
“Promise I’ll get to keep it after we break up?”  
“Promise,” he said leaning closer as well. From the outside you must look like a proper couple, whispering sweet nothings as you ignored the rest of the room. His eyes darted to your lips. _Kiss her_. He could, couldn’t he? He could get away with it. That was what you were there for, to be a couple, to have photos taken of intimate moments. No one would question it if he just closed the gap, not even you. But he hesitated too long, the shriek of laughter from another table interrupting the moment. He leaned back in his seat, trying to put some distance between you before he lost his head again, “So do I get to see mine?”

Ben was nearly speechless when you did eventually let him see it. The guitar with the lyrics beside it. He couldn’t have stopped from smiling even if he’d wanted to.  
“And how did you know that’s one of my favourite songs?”  
“It is? It’s just the song I overheard you playing that one time.”  
That one time. A few weeks previous. Between scenes, as he’d waited for the cameras to be organised around the new set. He hadn’t meant for anyone to hear him, least of all you. But he’d been starting to feel tense and wanted to unwind before filming resumed so he’d gone back to his trailer and taken out his guitar. It was a song he’d always liked but he’d been listening to it more often since meeting you and it was the song his fingers had begun to play without him realising. Now here it was, on the mug you’d painted for him. And you had no idea that when he sang about the stun gun lullaby, he was singing about your laugh, or that you so completely had his attention that no other woman could compare. The song might have been written for someone else but whenever he heard it, it was you being sung about. Was that a sign to not give up hope? His heart ached with how much he wished you loved him the same. _Fuck, love?_ He’d never let himself think the L word before, that was serious shit. But it fit. He was hopelessly in love with you and there didn’t seem like there was much he could do to change the situation.

***

Ben looked up from his laptop to see you, brows furrowed, digging through your bag.  
“Something wrong?” he asked as you pulled your lips between your teeth, worrying at it absentmindedly, in what he had to admit was an adorable fashion.  
“Uhh, I think I need to go home,”  
“How come? If you forgot something I have a replacement here. What was it sunnies? Chapstick? A book?”  
“No, it’s not that sort of-”  
“Then what? You already have a toothbrush and PJs here,”  
“No it’s something else... I just think I’d be more comfortable at home today,”  
Ben tried to keep his voice steady but his mind was whirring with the possible reasons for your sudden wish to leave. Did you know about his secret? “Well a-are you sure I can’t help. We’re meant to be seen together this afternoon and if we leave now they won’t be able to get a shot of us smooching,”  
You chuckled at his word choice and he found it hard to repress his smile.  
“I’ll apologise to Mary and Peter, tell them something came up and see if we can reschedule,”  
“Are you positive there isn’t anything I can do?”  
You shook your head slightly, “if you really must know my period is a little early and I don’t have any tampons on me. Happy?”  
“Oh,” he began to laugh at your slight embarrassment, more relieved than embarrassed himself, “is that all? Y/N, you’re not the first girlfriend I’ve had, fake or not. I’m a 29 year old man I can deal with talking about periods, and I can certainly run to the shop for you,”  
“No, no, you don’t have to go out of your way like that. I’ve got plenty at home I just didn’t think I’d need any today,”  
““Y/N, I promise, it’s no trouble. I feel bad I don’t have anything here for you already. Been a while since I’ve lived with a girl and it didn’t even cross my mind. Seriously, it’ll take me two minutes.”  
You didn’t look convinced, eyeing the doorway to the hall.  
“Plus, if I go we won’t ruin Peter and Mary’s plan for today. And the Paps can get a shot of me staring at boxes of tampons like a good caring boyfriend. It’ll help our image.”  
You hesitated a moment longer, “oh alright, as long as you don’t mind,”

It took Ben two minutes to collect his shoes and wallet and car keys and then he was out the door, assuring you he’d be as quick as possible. On his way out he saw the photographer, getting into position by his front gate. He shot Ben a questioning look at the detour from the set plan as Ben hopped into his car. As he reversed out of the driveway he caught the photographer’s attention.  
“Making a run to the shop to pick up something for Y/N. Might be a good photo in it,” Ben felt odd talking to the man – a man who he recognised well enough, who had witnessed every intimate moment he’d shared with you (and who had been the catalyst for a number of them), but a man he knew next to nothing about. But he hoped that by leading the photographer away he was ensuring you’d have a peaceful respite from the constant intrusion of knowing you were being watched. The photographer nodded, replaced the lens on his camera and headed to his own car, following Ben to the closest supermarket. The distraction of communicating with the photographer was almost enough to make Ben stop kicking himself for not being more prepared for this eventuality. It was only once he was at the store, standing in front of a shelf of feminine hygiene products that he was truly side-tracked from his lack of foresight, and realised he had no idea what you wanted.  
You picked up your mobile on the third ring.  
“Hey, it’s Ben, what do you want?”  
“Don’t tell me you forgot already,”  
“No, I mean, what sort. There’s hundreds of boxes to choose from, I have no idea which brand you like or what, um…strength you need.”  
“Oh,” you laughed and described what your go to brand’s packaging looked like.  
He scoured the shelves, trying to block out the snap of a phone camera as the photographer got his shot.  
“Ah, got it,” he said as he finally located the right one, pulling down a box for you now and one to keep in his bathroom for future use, “see you in a few.”  
“Thanks Ben,”  
“It’s nothing,” he refrained from closing the call with a _love you_ , instead just saying, “Part of the boyfriend package.”  
On his way back towards the register he detoured into the tea and coffee isle, picking out a box of herbal tea bags that said _For Women_ on the box, hoping they’d sooth whatever cramps you were dealing with, and then grabbed a box of chocolates in case you wanted something sweet to snack on. The photographer was outside already, waiting to get a shot of him leaving with a full bag. 

It made Ben’s heart swell to see how grateful you were for his haul. He went to the kitchen to make you a tea and himself a coffee as you ducked into the bathroom.  
“Did you find the Panadol?” he asked, rattling the box of painkillers as you joined him in the lounge.  
“Yeah, thanks. I took two but I might need more in a few hours, if I’m still here. I’ll buy you a new box if I use too many,”  
“Don’t be daft. How are you feeling?”  
“Yeah fine. A few cramps but it’s nothing.”  
“Do you want a cuddle?” he asked without thinking.  
“What?”  
Ben shrugged, “I don’t know, my ex said that cuddling up with me made her feel better. But that’s a different- she probably said it so she had an excuse to make out a bit,”  
You laughed, “a cuddle would actually be very welcome right now,”  
“Oh, well in that case,” Ben shuffled over, patting the space beside him, and tried to remember that you weren’t really dating. But he couldn’t stop himself from pulling you tight against him and breathing deeply.

***

Ben wasn’t drunk. Not properly so anyway. He was too much of a chatty drunk to trust himself when he was sloshed. He’d had enough to loosen up and to dull the ache he felt whenever he looked at you. And to leave his keys at the bar. Nothing a glass of water and some TV couldn’t fix. He’d lost himself in the show when his phone dinged, nearly jumping at the unexpected noise. It was a text from Joe.

**WTF?**

It took Ben a few seconds to work out what it referred to but then the afternoon came back to him, the last scene you’d filmed, the photo he’d posted. _Shit_.  
“Ah, shit. Forgot I said I’d call Joe. Do you mind if we pause the ep?” he cast around for a reasonable excuse, “We’re trying to organise travel stuff for him and it’s easier if we talk it through rather than texting it all.”  
“Sure,” you said, already pressing buttons on the remote.  
“I promise I won’t be long,”  
“Take your time, it’s fine.”  
Ben smiled though it slipped as he left the room and pulled up Joe’s number. He shut the door of the room he used when he stayed over, already sure this would not be a conversation he’d want you to overhear.  
“What the fuck is that photo Ben?”  
“It’s nothing,” he sighed, “just the last day of filming,”  
“Are you alright, you sound weird?”  
“We went out for a drink.”  
“You and Y/N?”  
“And the rest of the cast and crew. And, before you say anything, no I didn’t get so drunk I blabbed about anything. I do have some self control,”  
“I wasn’t saying anything,”  
“No but you were thinking it. Anyway, I think I’m allowed to have a few drinks under the circumstances. Not exactly easy being secretly in love with your co-star who you’re also fakely dating,”  
“Alright, alright, point made. But that doesn’t explain the photo,”  
“Like I said, last day of filming,”  
Joe waited for more and begrudgingly Ben continued.  
“It was our last scene together and I wanted to commemorate it,”  
“ _Thank you Y/N for being the perfect Edith to my Andy. And thank you @theperfectmatchmovie for finding me my perfect match_.”  
“Y/N said it was a bit cheesy,”  
“Uhh yeah, little bit,” Joe laughed, “you’re not worried it was a bad idea?”  
“No. We got told to post stuff, which you already know since Y/Ns posted tonnes and you’ve commented on nearly all of them. Figured I should pull my weight,”  
“Someone has to keep an eye on you two. Stop you from doing something stupid.”  
“That’s what you’re doing is it?”  
“You sure you didn’t post the photo with that caption because you’re dying to tell her how you feel and this is a safe way to do so?”  
Ben scuffed his foot along the carpet, digging his toes into the rough material and feeling like a school boy being admonished by a teacher, “So what if it is?”  
“All I’m saying is be careful. You’re keeping two very large secrets and–”  
“Yeah Joe, I fucking know but I don’t have much of a choice here,”  
“That’s what I’m saying…look, I know you’re a bit of a romantic at heart but you’re also not the sort to get this hung up on unavailable skirt so I believe you when you say you love her. But don’t let it slip out because that’ll just make things worse.”  
“I don’t know what I was thinking getting into this mess,”  
“Neither do I. Frankly I don’t think you were thinking. At least, not about yourself.”  
“Yeah maybe. Doesn’t really matter though now does it?”  
“Alright. This is going to sound harsh, but it’s coming from a place of friendship. Just stop.”  
“What’s that supposed to mean? I can’t just call it quits now, the story is doing too well and Peter has assured me that the numbers are promising or whatever I don’t really know how they measure it. All I know is that people are going to see the movie because of us.”  
“That’s not what I meant. I understand you can’t get out of the fake relationship stuff. But, maybe you can get out of the other side of things. Just tell her. Intentionally, tell her. I know it’s not what you want to hear and I know you’re going to argue with me and say you can’t but why not? If you tell her and she admits she likes you then great, you can be together for real. Or, if you tell her and she says she doesn’t feel the same then she can’t get out either and you can be miserable together and she’ll at least stop hanging around you so much when you don’t have to be seen together and you can get over her.”  
Ben shook his head, “It doesn’t matter Joe. It doesn’t matter how I feel,”  
“I just think this whole situation…sucks for you.  
A mirthless laugh rose in Ben’s throat, “of course it sucks. It’s fucking shit man. I just keep waiting for her to tell me she feels the same but it’s not happening,”  
“Are you sure she doesn’t feel something, even if she’s not saying it?”  
“No I know it’s completely one sided.”  
“Is there any chance she already knows? You’re not the most subtle guy in the world Ben, maybe she figured it out before you were approached about the fake out,”  
“No, I don’t think she knows. She wouldn’t have wanted to do it in the first place if she knew,”  
Ben heard Joe sigh, “I don’t know what to say then man,”  
“I just wish things were different. I love being around her and being able to hold her and kiss her. But it fucking sucks that it’s only in public.”  
“What about now that the movie’s finished?”  
“I don’t know. Maybe not filming together will make it easier to stop thinking about her…I doubt it though. It’s not like I haven’t tried already. I spent the whole of pre-production and the first weeks of filming trying to get her off my mind and I couldn’t I don’t know how and I don’t think I could unless we literally stopped talking to each other entirely and, honestly I don’t know that I could handle that. But again, we’re back at I don’t have a choice here. I have to keep seeing her and being with her and being her boyf-”  
A door slammed at the other end of the house, making Ben jolt.  
“What is it?”  
“Nothing, I think Y/N just went to the bathroom or something.”  
“She’s at your place?”  
“No, I locked myself out of my place. I’m at hers. I should go though, we’re halfway through an episode.”  
“Ben. Be careful.”  
“Always am.”

Ben hung up with a sigh. Joe could tell him to move on or spill the beans all he liked but it wasn’t so simple. He slapped his cheeks and shook his head to clear it, pulling a smile back onto his face as he headed back to the living room. He was a little surprised to see the room empty but settled himself on the couch once again, pulling a throw blanket over himself. It smelt like you. Without thinking he pulled up Instagram on his phone and revisited the photo. You’d commented on it, less cheesy but there were heart emojis strewn throughout. A similar sentiment to his original caption. He sighed and shook his head, clicking out of the app to find something else to read until you returned. The sound of your footsteps drew his attention. Something had changed. You looked pale and unwell.  
“Are you okay?”  
“Fine, thanks. Just tired. Might call it quits after this ep.”  
He didn’t think you’d drunk that much but maybe it was just starting to catch up with you now. Then again, it had been a long and emotional day. You had every right to be wiped out by it and especially now that you were home with no filming or celebrating to distract you from how exhausting it all was. He offered you a spot under the blanket in case it would make you feel better to have some human contact. Just for that reason of course, nothing to do with _wanting_ to hold you _._ He shrugged it off when you refused and didn’t really think of it again until the episode ended and you went off to bed. He was still too alert to sleep himself, still dwelling on the conversation with Joe. So he flicked TV channels until he found something mildly distracting, a rerun of a dumb home renovation show that was easy to get sucked into.

When he did finally feel tired enough to go to bed he turned off the TV and the lights and began to tiptoe down the hall to his room. But there was light coming from your room. Not the yellow light of a bulb but the blue light of a phone or laptop. You were still up. Maybe you really weren’t feeling well. He wondered if he should check on you, offer to make you a tea with honey and lemon or something else comforting. Did you need tissues? A pot in case you had to throw up? Someone to hold your hair back? He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and sighed. _This is exactly what you shouldn’t be thinking._ He glanced at the light under your door again and then turned and continued his path up the hall. But, after that, he felt awake again. Unable to sleep. There was too much to think about. Maybe the caption on the photo had been a mistake. Maybe Joe was right and he should tell you. Maybe, maybe, maybe. When it came to you that’s all there was. A noise interrupted him, you groaning and the creak of springs as you shifted in the bed. _Is she having a wank?_ That was his first thought. _Does she need help?_ Was his next. _Dangerous_. Everything fell silent again and he realised you must have just rolled over to try and get comfortable. He didn’t know whether he was relieved or disappointed. He rolled onto his side, pulled the blanket up a little higher, willed himself to fall asleep but it was out of the question. You shifted again, your bed creaking with the movement. Maybe he should check on you, in case you were unwell. Or maybe there was something on your mind too. Maybe he could help. It was bound to be easier to solve than the mess he was in at any rate. He was on the verge of swinging his legs out of bed again when he was reminded of what Joe said about trying to forget you. He could feel that need to protect you, look after you, rising in his chest again. That wasn’t helpful, it wasn’t what he needed. He sighed and stayed in bed and listened to your tossing and turning until he finally managed to sleep himself. Only to dream of you.

***

Ben settled the bill, walked out of the restaurant and kept walking. The entire time thinking back on the days, weeks before the fight was due to occur. Something had seemed off about you. Or maybe that was just hindsight. If he had noticed anything, if he had ever thought you seemed out of sorts, he’d put it down to stress from auditions, trying to find the next job. It wasn’t always easy lining up another project after one had finished. He understood how stressful it could be, especially for an actress like you who was on the cusp of something bigger, looking for your big break. But maybe he’d been blind. After that dinner, after everything you said, there was no denying that something more was going on.

You’d been…not your usual self. From the moment you arrived. He’d asked if you were nervous, but he hadn’t been able to see any of the usual signs. No bouncing let, no bitten lip. So nervous wasn’t it. But you weren’t happy either. He had been though, happy to see you, happy to be with you again. Even with the looming argument. Truthfully, he’d been thinking of what would happen after, when you were alone together and able to just hang out or whatever. He should have realised things were going south the moment you told him to stop looking so happy. He just kept repeating the evening over and over, rewinding and rerunning every moment as if he could figure it all out just from that. Another moment leapt to the front of his mind.  
“So having a public spat doesn’t bother you but you almost lost your lunch over our first date?”  
“That was just because the whole situation was new and I felt weird about going on a date with you.”  
That had hurt though he knew he shouldn’t have let it. Of course you’d have felt weird about going on a date with someone you had no interest in just for the sake of a movie. But still, it had hurt. A taste of what was to come.  
“Are you nervous?”  
You didn’t really seem to care what he said. Of course, he hadn’t given you the whole truth. It wasn’t totally dishonest to say argument scenes made him more nervous than love scenes but that was omitting bigger elements. Maybe it would have been more truthful to say the concept of a public fight wasn’t something he was particularly fond of. But at the time he’d felt like if he’d said then he’d have ended up admitting that it was especially true when you were involved. That all he wanted to do was look after you and love you, not argue in a room full of strangers just trying to enjoy a nice meal. After that he felt like he hadn’t been able to get you to say more than a few words. You who was usually so open and conversational. You who he’d spent more time with recently than just about anyone else. You who he could always talk to, joke around with. It was frustrating that you wouldn’t just tell him. He remembers feeling frustrated, of getting short with you. He regretted that. But that was when he was sure something was wrong. He might have ignored all the signs before that but as soon as he felt you had closed yourself off, he wanted to know why. Wanted to figure out what was bothering you, what could have happened. A fight with Felicity? Bad news about an audition? Maybe he’d said something offhanded and hadn’t realised he’d upset you ( _god if thats the case I want to know even more so I can apologise a hundred times over_ ). He asked about it all, wanted to make things better, but then you were letting rip. Completely off book and unscripted, even when he gave you cues to get back on track. He would have been impressed with your performance except he was so taken aback by it. Without thinking he’d reached for your hand. He can see it happening in his mind, as if he were viewing the scene from above. The way you’d wrenched your hand away, leaving his sitting uselessly in the middle of the table. And all he could hear was “clingy and needy” in your voice with such…what was it, disgust? Hatred? And before he could so much as open his mouth to stop you, you were gone. That’s not what was meant to happen. You were meant to leave together and laugh about it afterwards. He wasn’t meant to be walking through London on his own, trying to figure out what went wrong.

It was then that Ben looked up and realised he didn’t know where he’d walked to. He considered stepping into a bar with all the noise to drown out your voice, all the alcohol he could handle to make him forget. Clingy and needy. But he thought better of it and turned to hail a cab instead. What he couldn’t stop himself from doing was calling you, though he was left disappointed when it went straight to voicemail. He listened for the beep as if he were going to leave a message but when the beep came he didn’t know what to say. What could he possibly say? _What changed? Am I really so clingy? What can I do?_ Closer to home he tried again but the same thing happened. He hung up before the beep.

As he was letting himself inside his phone rang and for the length of a heartbeat he thought it was you. But it wasn’t. It was just Peter telling him that the video had gone live, congratulating you both for putting on such a good show, being so convincing. He ran through some early statistics, something about how many times it had been shared already, and then followed it by saying they wanted separation for a few weeks, until the make up dinner. Ben listened in a daze. When Peter finally hung up Ben opened twitter. The video was easy to find. He put his phone down on the kitchen bench and moved to pour himself a drink. Maybe he didn’t have quite as much alcohol as a bar, but he had enough to do the trick. His phone was staring at him the entire time. He shook his head, moved the phone to his pocket and headed to his bedroom. His guitar was there, the perfect way to clear his head. He picked it up, sat on the end of the bed and, without thinking, he played the opening chords of _that_ song. Your song. With a slight clatter as his hands knocked the wood, he let the guitar drop back to the bed, trying to dig his phone out of his pocket. The video was still there, waiting for him. Proof. It wasn’t a nightmare, it wasn’t made up. He couldn’t see your face from the angle it was taken. But he could see the tension in your shoulders, the way you pulled your hand back as if you couldn’t think of anything worse than having him touch you. And he could hear you. Clingy and needy.

Ben watched it just the once, unable to suffer through it again. It wass already playing on a loop in his head, he didn’t really need the visual reminder. And then he called Joe. There wasn’t really much else he could do. No one else he could talk to about it. Joe had seen it, had watched it, and he commented on how good it looked, how real it seemed.  
“I think that’s because it was. Y/N went completely off book. We didn’t plan it to be like that,”  
“Is that why you look so shocked?”  
“Yeah, guess so.” Ben gulped down a mouthful of his drink and wished he’d brought the bottle with him.  
“I’m trying very hard not to call her something beginning with B right now,”  
“Joe she’s not a bitch, she’s…I don’t know. Something must have happened, I just don’t know what.  
“Maybe she’s starting to crack? Pressure of keeping up a fake relationship is getting to her,”  
“Can you try not to sound too excited by the idea. I’d remind you I do actually love her and if things work out between us I’d like for you to meet her.”  
“You can’t blame me for disliking her when I get a call from you every other day telling me she’s broken your heart again,”  
“You’re such a drama queen,”  
“Fine, I’ll try to keep my dislike to a minimum. But could it be that? I know she doesn’t have the same baggage as you but it’s probably not easy for her either,”  
“She called me clingy. Needy. Why would she say that?”  
“Because she’s a bitch.”  
“Bloody hell Joe,”  
“Unless…”  
“Unless what?”  
“Is there any chance she knows?”  
“You mean about me? Come off it, absolutely not. It’s not like I tell everyone I meet about it. You’re the only person who knows.”  
“Alright, then it must be something else.”  
“What do I do? I can’t,” Ben sighed, “It was meant to be different. We were going to have words at the restaurant and then go home together looking tense and then laugh about it when we were alone but instead…instead I’m home alone with half a bottle of whisky and a fake girlfriend who won’t answer my calls. What the fuck am I meant to do with that?”  
“Just give her some space Ben. You don’t know it was you. It could have been any number of things. It might just be that she was having a bad day and because you were already set to have the spat, you caught the brunt of her frustration. She’ll call in a day or two, embarrassed and apologising and you can go back to pining in peace. Out of curiosity, what was the fight originally going to be like?”  
“Oh, um…We’d decided that I was going to suggest she meet my family and she was going to say she wasn’t ready for that and it was all getting too serious or something like that.”  
“Well, that’s pretty much what she actually said isn’t it?”  
Ben thought for a moment. He’d been so wrapped up in her description of him, he’d not really thought about the overall message of her monologue, “Yeah, I suppose it is.”  
“See, she wasn’t as off script as you thought. She just jumped the gun a bit and took you by surprise. I’d guarantee that it’s something else entirely and you just happened to be the unlucky outlet for her anger.”  
“Maybe you’re right. She did say that thing about pretending everything was okay and acting like we’re serious….how I love her more than she loves me,”  
“And you’re certain she doesn’t know,”  
“100 per cent. She’s never had the chance to find out,”  
“Then of course I’m right, it was just an issue of timing and you being in the line of fire,”  
“Maybe I should see her,”  
“No! Bad idea Ben. Really bad idea.”  
“I just want to be sure it wasn’t my fault. If I’d been less wrapped up in pretending she was my girlfriend then may-”  
“Stop beating yourself up. Just try not to drink too much and get some sleep. She’ll sort herself out and call when she’s less mortified by the whole thing.”  
“Okay, yeah,”  
“And for fucks sake, stay off twitter,”  
Ben hung up, feeling marginally better but unable to shake the feeling that it was somehow his fault. Clingy and needy. Clingy and needy. Clingy. And needy. The way you’d spat the words at him. The way you’d stormed out. He sighed, slumped forward, and ran his hands down his face. _No, Joe’s right, it’s not you._ But, as much as he repeated it, Ben still found tears clinging to his palms as he pulled them away.

***

Ben looked at his phone and bit his lip. His eyes shifted back to the ocean of brake lights ahead of the car and then back to his phone. He was already running late and the traffic didn’t seem to be moving. God he did not want to be late. Not after everything that had happened. Not after you’d cleared up the mess from the fight, not after he’d made such an effort to be less clingy, to give you more space. Things weren’t back to normal by any stretch but at least you were talking again, at least you’d missed him. The conversation you’d had the previous night, staying on the phone to watch TV. He’d been surprised by your suggestion but equally as thrilled. It had to be a sign that you felt something too. _People don’t just watch episodes of TV over the phone for anyone, do they?_ He was in with a chance, he knew it. But, in the hours after the episode had ended and the call with it, he’d come to one conclusion. He had to tell you. He had to bite the bullet and tell you. If he wanted something real with you, you had to know. And if he kept it secret any longer it could lead to more arguments which he definitely did not want. What he wanted was for you to understand why he’d become so attached, and hopefully, to reciprocate. So he was going to tell you. And he couldn’t be late.

As the car inched forward Ben made up his mind. He was going to be there on time, one way or another. With a thankful word to the driver he got out of the car and hurried onto the pavement, beginning to walk towards the restaurant. He’d spent all day feeling like he was about to have a heart attack, chest aching with how badly he wanted to see you and how nervous he was about your reaction. He wasn’t going to fuck up now. As he walked a display in a shop window caught his eye and he quickly stepped inside. The bell tinkled as he entered, getting the assistant’s attention. She gave him a up and down glance as she greeted him, as if trying to determine the occasion based on his outfit alone.  
“Welcome to Coming Up Roses, what can I do for you?”  
“I need a bouquet,”  
“I can certainly help with that. Any flowers you had in mind?”  
“Uhhh not really. Spur of the moment,”  
“Well what’s the occasion then? I have flowers for everything from weddings to funerals, I’m sorry to Congratulations,”  
“Um, I’m about to tell the girl of my dreams that I’m in love with her,”  
The woman smiled, “I’ve got just the thing,”

A minute later and Ben was once again hurrying up the street, clutching the freshly wrapped bouquet, his heart pounding as he tried not to worry about how much time was passing. He had to pause at one point to get a map up on his phone, unsure of the restaurant’s exact location. He was further away than he thought and quickened his step, threading through groups of people on nights out, trying not to bump into anyone. You were already there, waiting. He could see you from half a street away and ran to meet you, kissing your cheek and handing over the bouquet before he really registered that that’s what he was doing. It was only as you were smelling the flowers and complementing them that he realised you were there, actually there, and he suddenly felt extra nervous about it all.  
“I saw it in the shop and, um yeah, I don’t know, they seemed nice, a-and I know you, um, like nice things, so,” Ben wanted to die, wanted to be sucked into a hole in the ground, sent through a time warp, anything to not be there babbling at you like a fucking idiot.  
“It’s very sweet of you, thank you,”  
“I’m glad you think so because right now it feels kinda cliché and cheesy.” _Shut up_ “Now you have to carry them around all night,” _fucking shut up_ , “what was I thinking?” _for the love of all that is holy_ , “And god can I just shut up. Sorry.”  
He didn’t know what had come over him, but he wished it would go away. And things only got worse as he looked you over, took in your whole appearance. Seeing you just made him want you even more, especially with how gorgeous you looked. He wanted to kiss you, tell you. But he had to be able to speak to tell you and he wasn’t going to be able to do that until he relaxed a little. A drink, that’s what he needed. He downed his first one fast, willing it to work its magic. It did help calm him, though your laugh just made his heart race again. Halfway through the next glass he felt like he could say it and was on the verge of just getting it out into the open when you were interrupted, shown to your table. He took it as a sign that it would be bad timing and that he needed to wait. Instead he focused on just having a good night with you. The memory of your last dinner was still in the back of his mind but he pushed it away by reminding himself that things were better now. He felt himself relax more as you talked and with every touch you gave him. The drinks were definitely part of it too but he put it down to you mostly. How much you sooth him, how happy he finds himself when he’s in your presence. He could breathe properly again. You startled him a little by saying Joe would want to meet you but of course, you don’t know that he knows that it’s all a big production so you just meant it in a friend-being-curious-about-the-girlfriend type way. Very far from the truth. But Ben agrees and changes the topic.

When dessert arrived, he thought maybe that could be a good time to say it because it’s the end of the meal and you can leave quickly if you need to. But before he get’s to it he finds himself asking something else instead.  
“Can I ask about these last couple of weeks?” He hoped he hadn’t wrecked the evening by bringing it up but he was curious too, “Was it good? The space, did you get what you wanted from it?” Ben worried at his lip as he watched you slowly finish your mouthful and set the spoon down.  
“Yes. I’m not going to lie and say it wasn’t helpful because it really was. Just, having that break from everything. I think I really needed it. But I really really missed you too.”  
That was a relief. Proof that you were on the same page again, back to normal. And proof that you did care about him.  
“I’m glad. It was hard not seeing you but yeah, helped me figure some stuff out too. Confirmed some other stuff.”  
“Like what? If you don’t mind me asking.”  
 _This is it, this is your moment_ , “Like, um,” He wanted to say it, had the words picked out already but, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t risk driving you away again, causing another scene. Maybe he could say it back at his place, away from the cameras and the interested public. Maybe that would be smarter. All the same, he felt disappointed with himself for not having the guts to just tell you, and to try to cover the moment asked if you wanted to leave. As you step outside he remembers the kiss that was expected and he leans in to remind you. It’s more than a kiss though, different to all the other times you’d kissed. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to it. Any excuse really. And he says as much when he, somewhat accidentally admits to having missed kissing you. It was a thought that somehow slipped out of his mouth, but either you didn’t hear him or you were too caught up in the moment to say anything. _Or she feels the same_. He pushed the hopeful thought down as you kissed him back. His heart pounded as he felt your hands on his chest, as if it were trying to tell you what he’d been too much of a coward to say. And then you whined and settled on his lap and god what a fucking gorgeous sound. He’d spent months getting off to the memory of a hum and now you were gifting him a whine? An eager, excited whine at that. The sort of thing he’d been trying to imagine and it was so much better than anything he’d come up with. Your hand was in his hair and he very nearly echoed your noise back to you from that alone, but it caught in his throat as you kept kissing him, tongues twisting, your chest pressed against his. He wanted to hold you close and touch every part of you he could reach all at once, unsure of whether to grab your arse or you hip or the back of your neck. So he did a bit of it all, slid his hand along your arm and then down your back and then to your arse. And all too soon it stops. He could have cursed that driver and the heartless car horn that interrupted and sent reality crashing back down around him.

Once you were inside the safe zone of his house, away from the act, he expected things to go back to normal. You’d take off your makeup and then make a cup of tea and fill a glass of water for your flowers and you’d wind down with something on TV before you both went to bed. He’d have to have a shower to get off without you suspecting anything because there was no way he was going to be able to sleep with the memory of your tits pressed against him and your whine and your kiss swimming around his head. But you don’t walk to the bathroom like you normally do. He pulls the wallet from his pocket, places it deliberately next to his keys. But you still haven’t moved. He turns slowly, notices the way you swallow and lick your lips and he swears he’s on the verge of asking what you’re doing or saying something about it being a mistake, at least the thought crosses his mind, but you were standing so close _(when did she get so close?)_ and when you kiss him again he just kisses back.

It’s a mistake probably, definitely, he knows that. He can hear the siren in his head again telling him to stop, pull away. But the problem is that it doesn’t feel like a mistake, doesn’t feel like it should be, and when he takes a step back you step with him and again and again until he’s somehow on the couch with you on his lap again. And why would he stop that, why would he say no to you when you fit there so perfectly and you feel so good? And all he can think about is that whine and that hum from all those months ago and he wants to see what other sounds he can pull from you so he drops his lips to your neck.  
“Wait, wait,”  
He’s confused as to why you’re stopping him and even more confused when you’re not in his arms anymore.  
“It’s rule one Ben,”  
 _Bugger rule one_. Bugger all the fucking rules, you’ve broken most of them tonight anyway if they weren’t already broken. A voice in the back of his head reminds him what a big mistake that would be, but it can’t argue against making out. Making out isn’t against the rules and you know it too, you hesitate when he says it out loud.  
“I’d be good to you Y/N, you know I would,” he’s not sure if he’s talking about here and now, physically, or something deeper, something in the realm of boyfriend but what does it matter because both are true.  
You shake your head, “You know this isn’t real, right Ben?”  
And then it all comes out. That you knew about his crush.  
And everything stops. Just stops. He can’t breathe, air doesn’t exist anymore, and he’d say his heart had stopped too except he can hear it pounding in his ears, drowning out whatever you’re saying. You knew? You’d known for months? All those times Joe had suggested it, all that time he spent worrying about keeping it from you and you already fucking knew? And then everything seems to speed up all at once. The air rushes back, as loud as his heart, which only doubles it’s pounding until he can feel it trying to punch a hole through his chest and escape. Rational thought returns, connecting dots and drawing conclusions almost faster than he can keep up.  
“Is that why you were upset before the argument? Is that why you didn’t want to see me for the last two weeks?”  
“I thought some space might help you stop feeling that way.”  
He has to laugh at how fucking ridiculous an idea that is. That space would have ever helped him purge you from his system. Love isn’t that easy to get rid of. And his tongue must have sped up with the rest of his body because he’s saying it, the thing he’s been putting of saying, the thing he’s been wanting to tell you all night, and he wishes he could stop because this isn’t how he wanted it to go. This wasn’t how you were meant to find out. But no matter how much he screams at himself he can’t take it back. It’s out there.  
And you look horrified.  
“You love me?”  
Three words have never been spoken with more contempt than you managed to cram into that once sentence.  
“You don’t have to say you don’t feel the same, I know.”  
Your silence cuts through him like a knife, shredding what little hope remained. His heart isn’t beating against his chest anymore. It’s been kicked across the room and lies lifeless against the wall.   
“That’s what I thought.”

He can’t be here anymore, can’t look at you. He wants to leave but he remembers all the cameras outside, reminds you of their presence in case you’re planning the same escape he is. He’s trapped there and so are you. So he puts as much space between you as he can, heads to his room and slumps heavily onto the end of his bed. All he can think about is those three words, _you love me?_ Not a hopeful question. Not even stunned surprise. More of an accusation. He tastes blood but otherwise barely notices when he tears his lip with his teeth. You must hate him for getting you both into this mess. He hates that he’s done it, that he’s put you in this position. And he knows you’re never going to want to speak with him let alone see him again. And he knows that as soon as the cameras leave, you’ll leave too. And that thought hurts just as much as everything else. You’re moving about, he can hear you walking around. It sounds like you’re pacing. Five steps and then a turn and then five more steps, another turn. Something about the rhythm breaks through his overactive, panicking, worrying mind. Something about it calms him. Maybe it’s that knowing you’re restless and agitated makes him want to comfort you, despite everything he’s feeling. Or maybe it’s just because the sound of your footfall means you’re still here. And if you’re still here then maybe he can smooth things over. He doesn’t expect to fix everything. He’d understand if you still wanted to erase him from your contacts and pretend you were only ever colleagues. But if he can just explain himself, explain that he never meant for this to happen, explain why he kept it from you or tried to anyway and maybe explain what he’d wanted tonight to be instead of the clusterfuck it’d become. If he can get any of that out then maybe you won’t hate him quite so much.

He says your name softly, not sure he’s allowed to say your name, “I heard you pacing.”  
“Sorry, I’ll keep the noise down.”  
“No, that’s not- it’s okay. I just thought, since we’re both clearly awake and since they haven’t left yet, I thought you might like a cuppa.”  
“I didn’t think you drank tea,”  
Have you really not noticed yet? He never bought tea bags, until you started coming to stay over regularly. Twice you opined about not being able to have a cup of tea before bed and that was all it took for him to start keeping them in his cupboard along with the biscuits you prefer. That’s how he knows it’s love. He took a breath as he pulled out mugs and stuck the kettle on, resolutely not looking at you. If he looks at you he’ll spill his guts and won’t be able to stop. He has to make tea first. Just the way you like it.  
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.” It comes out the second he looks at your face and it’s only that you’re telling him you understand that he doesn’t immediately say more. He drops his eyes to the brown liquid in his mug, undrinkable in his opinion, but a perfectly adequate distraction. He needs to get the words right this time. No stumbling and stuttering, no blurting things out without thinking. He needs to say it right so you’ll listen and understand what he’s trying to do.  
“I promise I understand where you’re at and I’m not going to try and convince you or to chase you or anything like that. I really am trying not to feel this way.” He glances back at your eyes, terrified of what he’d see there.  
“It’s okay Ben, I know you wouldn’t. I just wasn’t expecting you to drop the L bomb.”  
“Please don’t hate me,” it’s a whisper compared to everything else he’s said but there’s no way to make his voice stronger. It’s the thing he’s most worried about and admitting it out loud to you is harder than he imagined it would be.  
“I could never,” the sincerity with which you say it is almost enough to make him cry but the hug is what pushes him over the edge. It’s more warmth and kindness than he thinks he deserves after everything he’s done. And it’s exactly what he needed. Comfort and reassurance in one simple gesture. He wraps his arms around you for the third time that night, his face pressed into the cook of your neck, and you let him, squeezing back, as he lets everything out.

***

The night after you met Joe, Ben visits him again, this time without you. It had always been the plan, to see Joe a few times, as much as the press circuit would allow, while he was in the US. But after the previous night it’s more necessary. And yet, Ben was struggling to vocalise any of his questions. It’s not until after dinner, when Joe suggests they take their drinks out onto the veranda, that any of it comes up. It’s peaceful out there, sitting in the cool night air, each of them taking turns to swig from their beer bottle as they talk. But Ben’s mind is constantly disrupted with thoughts of you. It’s the first time since all the promotion stuff started that he’s had more than a couple of minutes away from your side. Joe isn’t helping, constantly glancing at Ben, frowning, as if he’s trying to work something out. But he’s the first to crack, making it easier for Ben to talk.  
“How’s it going?”  
“Press is fine, bit boring. You know how repetitive it can get,”  
“And you know that’s not what I meant,”  
“Yeah. Nah, everything’s fine. Mostly,”  
“Mostly?”  
“It’s not easy having to share a room with her. I mean, it’s fun though. I’m glad she’s the one I’m doing all this shit with. We’re mates and we’ve been working so closely for so long now that we…get each other. Like there was this interview where one of the questions made me uncomfortable and she knew straight away and broke in to take some of the heat. She just says whatever she can to make me laugh or ease the tension or whatever will help. And I know when she’s getting nervous and needs a break or a fresh cuppa. But when it’s just us in our suite it’s…hard. I don’t know, I’m just trying to keep some distance even though there’s not much to be had. What did you think of her?”  
“Honestly?”  
“Of course,”  
“She’s perfect for you. Except for the not being interested part.”  
Ben nodded, letting his eyes fall to where his fingernail was digging into the label on his bottle.  
“Although…”  
“What?” Ben looked back at Joe, “You think she might be?”  
“I don’t know. And I don’t want to get your hopes up. She certainly doesn’t think she is. I asked her about it while you were out here last night and she was adamant that she doesn’t think of you that way but that’s not how it looked to me.”  
“We had a moment yesterday. Just before we came here. Nearly kissed.”  
“Seriously? Again?”  
“I stopped it. Kind of wish I hadn’t. Maybe if something happened, she’d change her mind,”  
“I know I’m not part of this situation and I wasn’t there and can only go off of what you’ve said and the one time I’ve met her but, for what it’s worth, I think you made the right call.”  
“Yeah?”  
“I don’t think you want anything to happen with her until you’re both more sure where you stand. Definitely not while you’re stuck sharing a hotel room.”  
“But what if -”  
Joe shook his head, “I watched her last night. She looked at you a lot and not just because you were the one talking. She also smiled a lot whenever your attention was on her. I was half expecting her to say she had a thing for you but wasn’t sure if she should tell you or something like that. So I think there is a good chance she is attracted to you but for some reason, doesn’t want to admit it and I think sleeping with her would just make things more complicated and worse for both of you. You said she had her little freak out thing when you were hooking up after that date. You don’t want to let things get further and have her freak out again.”  
“Yeah, you’re right. I’m just confusing myself because we’ve been in such close quarters. I just wish things were more certain y’know? Like, she keeps saying she doesn’t like me as more than a friend but then we’ll have a moment like we did in the hotel, or like on the plane when she was leaning on my shoulder to help with my crossword puzzle, or when we fucking made out. And then I’m back getting my hopes up only for her to turn around and crush me again. And it’s probably nothing anyway. Just pent up urges since we’ve been fucking trapped in this for months now.”  
“I don’t know man, it might be more than that. She seemed really into you last night.”  
“Nah. She’s horny and I’m there and that’s why we’ve had these near kisses and stuff. She’s said she doesn’t like me so that’s it. Maybe it’s better that way anyway.”  
Joe shook his head again but let the subject drop, “So how long are you here for again? There’s this restaurant up the road I should take you to.”

***

The closer he got to his parent’s place the more tightly wound Ben felt. Bringing a girl home to meet the family was always at least a little nerve wracking – wondering whether they’d like her, whether she’d like them, how many embarrassing stories he’d have to sit through. But he could safely say that with you it was worse than with anyone else. There was so much history with you, despite never having legitimately dated, that he couldn’t stop thinking about. You meant so much to him. And he knew his mum was going to love you ( _how could she not_ ) and that meant he was going to be asked why it took him so long to bring you around and about where it was headed and they were questions he didn’t really feel up to answering. Of course, on top of all of that, there was the prospect of sharing a room with you, maybe a bed. You hadn’t entirely worked out the arrangement and not knowing was just making him more nervous. Not just for himself either, for you as well. If he was nervous he could only imagine you were too. You were going to be facing questions as well, judgement from a new family. A family you didn’t even want to be part of. So he kept close to you all night. Because it’s easier to pretend to be a couple when you’re by his side and it’s easier to avoid tough conversations when he has the excuse of introducing you to someone else up his sleeve. And it’s so much easier to keep his folks away from you when he’s got your hand in his. He does circuits of the garden with you, chats to everyone with you, repeating the story of how you met and the fiction of how you started dating. And the whole time he’s trying to make sure you’re comfortable and enjoying yourself at least a little because you don’t even have actual feelings for him to push you on. He’d gladly endure first meetings with every single member of your family tree if you asked but he knows you’re only there because you have to be. Unfortunately, he’s also had a bit to drink so eventually he has to relieve himself, silently cursing his bladder because it means he has to leave you on your own. You don’t seem to mind too much. If anything, it feels like you’ve found your feet and are actually having a good night which he’s glad for. But he still goes as quick as he can.

He’s on his way back when he sees you and instantly realises something’s wrong. Your leg is bouncing so rapidly it’s a wonder you don’t knock the underside of the table, and you’re looking around as if you’re trying to find him. His first thought is that someone has said something inappropriate. There’s plenty of drunk cousins around and who knows what one of them might have said or done in a misguided attempt to be charming or impressive or flirtatious. But then he realises who you’re sitting next to and his stomach drops. So he hurries over to the table and takes the seat beside you, laying his hand on your knee to try to calm you. It works well enough for you to be able to sit there a little longer until he can find a reasonable excuse to leave the table and his mum. He’s not in the mood to be at the party anymore and leads you to the exit, politely waving off anyone who tries to convince you both to stay a little longer.  
“Better?” he asks once you’re outside, relieved when you say yes.  
“She mentioned us getting married,”  
“What? Why the fuck would that have come up?” Ben couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He’d been prepared for a lot but not that.  
“It was just a passing comment but I….”  
“It’s okay, c’mon, let’s go home you can tell me everything.”  
Without thinking he pulled you into a hug, breathing out when he felt you lean into him.

By the time he got back to the house Ben wanted another drink. You’d sat under his arm the entire ride back, keeping quiet, obviously lost in thought as you absentmindedly played with his fingers. Every brush had made him want to take your hand properly and tilt your head up to kiss you, irresponsible and selfish as it might be. One of the upsides of being back home was knowing where his parents hid their best booze, so he dug out a bottle of his dad’s Johnnie Walker, feeling a little like a teenager again, pinching a drink to impress a girl. You laughed though so he counted it as a win. But the reason you were alone together, no longer at the party, was still weighing on him and clearly on you as well.  
“So what happened back there?” He handed you a glass and waited until you felt you could speak.  
“I guess it was just harder to be around your family than I was expecting.”  
Everything you said made sense he supposed. He’d not really considered it that way because he wasn’t so much lying as just playing pretend. But, as much as he wished you were on the same page, he understood where your guilt came from. He tried to make you laugh again but when it didn’t work he set his glass down and took your hand.  
“Seriously, Y/N, there’s nothing to feel guilty about. The premiere is coming up in a couple of weeks and then pretty soon after that we’ll break up and I’ll tell them it just wasn’t working. They’ll accept it and never have to know the truth. And then we can forget this whole thing and move on.” His chest tightened at the thought of it, not being allowed to even pretend to have you anymore but he clamped down on it for your sake.  
“But it must be hard for you too. Having me here and everything,”  
He half shrugged, looking down at where his thumb was brushing the back of your hand softly, “I’m a big boy, I can handle it.”  
Ben glanced back at you, about to tell you it was sweet of you to care about how he was doing, but when he saw your expression he stopped.

He was a little shocked by the kiss, stumbling back a step or two, the warning siren blaring in his head again. Everything told him to run away and yet his feet were frozen in place. Joe had been right when he said he shouldn’t do this, and he’d been here before. It hadn’t gone well then so what made him think it would be better this time? But somehow he can’t find the words and you kiss him again and he decides he’s going to let it happen. He’s sick of trying to fight how badly he wants you and you clearly want this too. If you didn’t you wouldn’t be trying to undress him. He decides he’s going to let himself be selfish for once and just go with it. After the decisions made it all turns into a bit of a blur really. You’re leaning against the table and then he’s carrying you up to his room and it’s like every almost kiss, every missed opportunity and pent up moment you’d never let yourselves have is breaking all at once. You’re on his bed now and god he’s wanted you like this for so fucking long and who cares if it’s wrong. One night won’t matter. And he’s surprised by how wet you are when you pull his hand towards your cunt but he loves that you’re taking the initiative and that you clearly want him just as much as he wants you. You don’t tell him to stop. You tell him how to touch you, what feels good, and he loves that about you too. Even more than he loves how you sound saying his name as you clench on his fingers and shiver through your orgasm and fuck, he thought the whine from last time was a captivating sound but it has nothing on this, on how you sound when you cum for him. He’s going to be thinking about that moment, about you saying his name like that forever. He wants to be inside you, wants to hear it again, wants to make you feel even better and he’s forgotten where you are and how you got there so he leans over and realises this isn’t this room. This room isn’t as prepared as he’d like. For a moment he thinks that’s it and maybe it’s for the best except then you say you have condoms as you get up and rummage through your bags. He wants to know why – were you planning this or are you always just prepared like that? – except then you’re coming back towards him and he really doesn’t care why, just that you do. You climb on top of him and he feels breathless at the sight. He wants to worship you, every inch of you, and he wants to be as close as possible, pushing himself up to kiss you again because he loves you. He says it without meaning to but he doesn’t care, he’s just trying to get you to moan his name again, rubbing your clit until you’re both finished, breathing hard against each other. You’re kissing along his jaw and he wants to stay like that forever, blissed out and tangled in each other’s embrace. But reality rushes back, ignoring how desperately he’s trying to cling to the moment, and he realises how messy everything suddenly is. It hurts too. Knowing it’s not real, knowing that you don’t want what he wants. He remembers what he said just moments before, that confession whispered against your lips, and it makes him feel queasy with embarrassment on top of the heartache that’s already setting in. How many times does he have to put himself through this pain before he gets it through his head? It’s not reciprocated. It never will be.  
“I’ve gotta…” Ben nods his head in the direction of the door, hoping you’ll fill in the blank yourself. He wants to leave but he also wants to stay there with you, so he settles on shifting out of your reach and looking over at you, not quite able to meet your eye.  
“I wasn’t expecting that to happen,”  
 _Weren’t you?_ “Neither. Are you okay?”  
“Yeah. I, um, it was really good and I-I think I kind of needed it.”  
Ben tried to smile but it didn’t feel like it worked properly. Sure you needed it. A quick fuck to break the forced dry spell. He wanted to run from the room, flee the scene “It was good for me too. Really good. But it can’t ever happen again.” He averted his eyes again, focused on slipping back into his underwear. There was half a second where he looked around for his shirt before realising it was out at the table with the unfinished whiskies. He’d have to tidy up so no one would be able to work out what happened.

Ben downed what remained of both drinks, the burn of the alcohol a welcome distraction, though much too brief. He grabs his phone from the table, drops the glasses onto the kitchen sink and heads outside to throw the used condom into the garbage bin. As if he was going to leave the evidence of his cowardice and misjudgement inside for anyone to find. Ben turned to head back towards the door, but he didn’t want to walk through it. Inside he’d have to face you and he wasn’t sure how to do that yet. Instead he walked down the sideway into the backyard, taking a seat on the retaining wall by the flower bed of peonies. It’s not exactly warm sitting there in just his boxers and his fingers shake a little as he unconsciously find’s Joe’s name in his contacts. Joe must be busy or asleep or something ( _What’s the time difference again?_ ) because he doesn’t pick up. Instead the call goes to voicemail.  
“Joe, it’s Ben here. Um… you’re gonna laugh so hard when you hear how fucking stupid I am,” Ben forces a laugh himself, “So I, uh, I just told Y/N that I love her….again….while we were having sex.” A pause as it sank in, “I’m not even sure how it…how we got to… We were just talking and then we were in bed and…. But it’s okay because I told her it could never happen again,” Ben thinks of how affectionate you’d been after, kissing his jaw and his nose, clinging to him, but it wasn’t real, it was just your post-sex, post-orgasm mood. He starts to laugh, less false but not entirely natural either, “I have to drive back with her tomorrow. Christ. Talk about bad timing, huh. But it’s fine though, it’s fine, totally fine. Joe, it’s fine. Because it wasn’t real. We’ve both been pent up and she spent all day with my family and had to listen to my mum talk about us maybe getting married. This was her reward. And that’s all it was. And I’m the idiot for hoping it could ever be more than that. I mean it’s not like friends don’t sometimes fuck, right? Especially when they’ve been drinking and pretending to date. Sex doesn’t have to mean feelings and it doesn’t for her and that’s fine.” There was that tight feeling in his chest again. Ben cleared his throat. “The drive will give me a chance to tell her it was a mistake. Because it was. This whole thing was a mistake. It was a mistake to fuck her and it was a mistake to bring her to meet my family and it was a mistake to pretend to date her and the biggest mistake of all of them was falling for her. And I haven’t been doing enough to reverse that. I know I said I have been, but I haven’t. I got caught up in the maybes and what ifs and I didn’t really try to move on. But now I…. It’s gotta fucking end sometime. I can’t keep doing this. So I’ve got to tell her it was a mistake and I don’t love her. Maybe I never did. Maybe I’m the same as her and it was all just because I was horny. Whatever. Now I can move on with my life. She doesn’t love me and I don’t love her and she’ll just be some bitch I nailed and we’ll both be happy, right?”  
Ben sighed and swiped at his blurry eyes. He’s not sure if the voicemail cut out midway through his thought process but it probably doesn’t matter. Movement from upstairs catches his eye. You in his old bedroom, getting dressed and leaving the room. He’s a little worried that if he heads back inside now he’ll bump into you on your way to get a drink from the kitchen but he can’t sit outside in the chill air all night. He takes a breath and swipes his knuckle over his eyes again before heading back inside, creeping towards the bedroom. You weren’t anywhere to be seen, though he guesses that means you’re in the bathroom. When he reached the bedroom again, he dug into the closet and pulled out a number of spare blankets, stealing a pillow from the bed. It’s not a particularly comfortable nest that he makes but it’s warm and doesn’t smell as much like you as the bed does. The pillow still holds a trace of you, but he flips it over and the scent is gone. He’s there when you get back, already pretending to sleep, curled in on himself facing away from you.  
“Ben?”  
He squeezes his eyes tighter shut, listening as you flick off the light and tiptoe back towards the bed. There’s a creak of springs as you get comfortable and then another as you move again.  
“Ben?”  
Your voice sounds even softer that time and Ben is tempted to answer but he bites his tongue.  
“Ben I-I…. Goodnight.” There’s another creak as you settle back down again.  
Ben lies perfectly still until he’s sure you aren’t going to move again. He doesn’t want to hear whatever you’re trying to say. It’ll just be everything he already knows. So he keeps quiet and feigns sleep in the hopes that real sleep will bring it’s respite sooner rather than later.

***

Ben’s phone rang and he admonished himself for hoping it was you. He was meant to be getting over you. Besides, the hope was misplaced. It was his mum.  
“How did Y/N’s audition go?”  
“Uh,” It took him a moment to remember the excuse he’d made up, “yeah, well I think.”  
“She’s lovely, Ben. I’m glad you finally let us meet her,”  
“Yeah,” He didn’t know how else to respond but his mother didn’t need much more encouragement than that.  
“You should bring her back soon, I’d love to have more of a chance to get to know her. It was a bit hard with so many people there.”  
“Yeah, um, I’d have to check when we’re free.” He said, dragging his fingers through his hair.  
“I’m sure you could find one night for us,”  
“Yeah. But there’s the premier coming soon and we’ve both got auditions and meetings lined up so I don’t know for sure. But let me talk to Y/N and we’ll find a day that works.”  
“Maybe a weekend? You could stay for a couple of days then, wouldn’t have to rush off.”  
“We’ll see. Depends.”  
“Don’t leave it too long honey,”  
“I won’t mum. Sorry, I’ve got to run, expecting a call back about something.”  
“Alright, love you,”  
“Love you too mum,”  
Ben threw his phone to the other side of the couch and sighed. He’d been expecting that call but that didn’t make it any easier to get through. Not when he’d spent the last few days thinking about that night and everything that had happened. The way your lips felt on his, the way you’d looked sitting on his lap, the way you’d sounded when you came. He shook his head as if he were an etch-a-sketch but the thoughts didn’t disappear, they just morphed into thoughts of later, in the car on the way home. How you’d nodded when he’d said he didn’t love you, clearly overjoyed with the news but trying not to show it.

Ben hadn’t gone cold turkey with you, there was still some contact, but he refrained from anything too unnecessary, spent as much time as he could with his other friends, and tried to keep any replies to you as simple as possible. Unfortunately his parents was less restrained. A few days later his mum called again, checking if he’d had a chance to invite you over yet. The day after he received a message from his dad suggesting he come down for lunch on the weekend (and encouraging him to bring you along), and then a couple days after that there was another call, one which he ignored. Every time he was thrown back to that night. But not even ignoring the calls helped. It just left him dwelling on everything and it didn’t even deter them. When next his mum called he found himself in yet another conversation on the topic and only just managed to stop himself from hanging up in her ear. He couldn’t do it anymore. It was pointless, all of it. The part of him that had thought you’d fall for him if you slept together had been proven wrong so there was nothing left to hope for. But with his family and friends thinking you were dating, always asking after you, and with you texting him memes and requesting his help, how was he meant to move on? What he needed was a clean break. But the breakup wasn’t scheduled until after the premiere and it wasn’t like a date had been set, it was up to the studio or your agents or someone else. And Ben wasn’t sure how he’d be able to wait it out that long.

A breakthrough came in an email from Peter, an update about the movie Ben had signed on for. Originally it was meant to film in England, but those plans were in the process of changing. Part of it would still be done around London but now it seemed a big portion of the filming would happen in Spain too. Peter seemed unsure as to how this change would clash with the plans for the breakup but Ben saw it as the opportunity he needed. He wouldn’t be leaving until after the premiere anyway so it wouldn’t change your last public appearance together, but it would also work as the clean break he’d been looking for. Plus, as he reasoned to Peter, they could use the distance as an excuse for why the breakup happened. Peter seemed to like the idea and agreed that the change of location wouldn’t affect anything enough to make Ben drop out. Ben was relieved, having been excited about the project since he first picked up the script, and began looking forward to getting away from you properly. Being in a completely different country would give him the time and space he needed to stop thinking about you. It would be easy to sever all ties to you and get on a plane and move on, maybe meet someone who could drive you from his mind. He’d have to break up with you though, not just through the press but as a friend too. He couldn’t have you texting him while he was away or commenting on photos he posted online. It had to be complete. He had to remove you from his life entirely. After the premiere would be a good time to tell you. He’d pull you aside at the party or maybe tell you in the limo on the way home. It’d be hard to explain but you’d understand. _She’s probably been wondering how to get rid of you anyway_. Surely, you’d be pleased to hear he was going to leave you alone, not bother you with his stupid feelings anymore. You’d agree it was for the best.

***

The night of the premiere snuck up on Ben. He’d been distracted with warding off his parents every invitation, on top of sorting out everything for his trip to Spain. Before he knew it the night had arrived making him feel equal parts excited about seeing the final product of what he’d spent so many months working on and anxious about seeing you. All he could think about was what he was going to say to you. He felt bad about cutting you from his life but there was relief too, knowing it’d be over soon. As he dressed in the suit his stylist had picked out he went over the speech he’d mentally written. _It’s just a breakup, you’ve done it before. Tell her you’re sorry but you can’t see her anymore. That’s all you have to do._ So, it was with this confusing mixture of emotions that he got into the limo and he only felt more ill at ease as he approached your place to pick you up.  
“You look lovely,” he said as you climbed into the car beside him. It came out more robotic than he meant it to. But there was a sense that this was the last time he’d be allowed to properly look at you so, while you were getting settled and taking in the interior of the limousine, he allowed himself a final chance to look you over. A hundred other adjectives to describe how beautiful you were, all dressed up and glowing, popped into his head but he kept those to himself. He couldn’t second guess his decision now. It was the only way to stop caring about you. And yet, he could feel his resolve crumbling just from being near you for the first time in weeks.  
 _No. Don’t let her get to you. This is why you can’t be in contact_. Ben felt his hand curl into a fist as he reminded himself how useful the space would be. What he needed was some rules, guidelines to follow to help him stick to his plan. He ignored the irony as he came up with them. _No holding hands. Actually, make that no physical contact. No voluntary physical contact anyway._ He was bound to be asked by someone to take a photo with you or appear on camera with you and he couldn’t refuse if they asked for him to touch you or kiss you or anything. _Do as many interviews as you can without her._ That would hopefully keep interactions to a minimal. _Don’t look at her during the movie._

It was surprisingly easy to stick to the rules as you both made your way down the red carpet, but he knew it wasn’t so much his choice as it was how busy and noisy and chaotic everything was. People called his name from every side, reporters looking for quick interviews, fans looking for autographs or photos. He was able to sidestep you easily, answering questions that were thrown at him on his own until someone asked if they could speak to you both at once or get a photo of you together. Whenever you were waved over to join him, he attempted to maintain as much space as he could, but you seemed to have set your own rules just to make it harder for him. You took his hand, leant your head on his shoulder, stood so close your leg brushed against his, stroked your hand over his arm, anything and everything you could to be closer to him. Ben wasn’t sure if you really were acting more affectionate ( _clingy and needy_ ) than normal or if it just felt that way because he was attempting to hold back. He put up with it though, unable to do much besides press on to the next interview without you. The hardest part was when you reached a bank of photographers who wanted a number of photos of the happy couple. Someone called out for him to kiss you and then suddenly the entire crowd was calling for it. He kept it soft and brief, though a part of him regretted not making the final kiss you’d share better.

After that he was able to escape you for a little, talking to people as everyone gathered in the theatre to watch the movie. He didn’t look at you again until he was on stage with you, introducing the film and saying his words of gratitude and celebration. But even that didn’t last long and then he was able to take his seat and focus his attention on the screen. Watching himself was always a bit of a weird experience. Part enjoying what he’s helped create, part critiquing his performance, and part wondering why it had been edited the way it had been edited. But somehow it was even stranger sitting beside you and watching you play at being in love with him. He recognised expressions, small smiles and looks, that you’d given him on dates during the course of your relationship. Just proof of how fake everything with you was. It left him with a bitter taste in his mouth and an oddly jealous feeling in his gut. And he could feel you looking at him but he stuck to his rules and kept his eyes fixed ahead.

He turned to his other side afterwards to talk to Alfie, wondering aloud how everyone would react to the movie and laughing about how well it had turned out. Ben couldn’t think what to say to you, knowing the inevitable end was coming. It was closer now that everyone was heading to the after party. So he was grateful when Alfie joined the two of you in your car.  
“You two ready to party?” He laughed, “Fuck I love that work gives me such a good excuse to get plastered.”  
Ben laughed along but he was stuck by the realisation that of course there’d be drinking. He’d have to watch how much he had, especially around you. He didn’t want to say something he’d regret or not be able to explain himself properly.  
“I think shots are in order to get us started. Meet you both by the bar?”  
“Sounds like a plan Al,”  
“I’m making yours a double Jones. We’ll have him dancing on the table by the end of the night, right Y/N?”  
“Oh I’d love to see that.”  
Cameras flashed as the small group got out of the car. Alfie headed off down the line, catching up with one of the others, leaving Ben and you on your own. Ben felt you press into his side, hanging off his arm, and thought about what waited in the club. Alfie with shots followed by champagne and cocktails and whatever else would be pressed on him during the night. He didn’t want to blurt it out or let it slip in front of other people. He had to tell you before he’d had anything to drink, just in case. It was now. It had to happen now.

As soon as he was inside, Ben looked around for somewhere he could have a quiet word with you, somewhere no one was likely to overhear. A nearby mirrored hallways seemed the perfect place. Everyone else was busy heading into the main room and it was out of view of the photographers still hanging around outside, waiting for the stragglers to show up.  
“Can I speak to you over hear a sec?” he lead you around the corner, looking around to double check for eavesdroppers, “So, there’s something I need to…Y/N?” he realised you hadn’t been paying attention, probably keen to get inside and celebrate.  
“Yeah, sorry, Um…”  
Ben didn’t hear what you said next, too busy trying to remember everything he wanted to tell you, “I was going to hold off until later but I don’t want to let something slip after a few drinks or anything like that. I can’t do this anymore. This whole thing was a mistake that I should never have agreed to and I need it to be over now.”  
He could see how confused you were, “You know they’re going to break us up in like a week, right?”  
“Yeah well, that’s too long to wait. I’m breaking us up now.” He kept talking, sure the shock of it would wear off and you’d agree with him once you’d heard it all, “And…I don’t think I can see you again, not for a while at least. I need some space to forget this ever happened. I, um, I start my new job in a few days so I think they’ll probably use that in the magazines to explain our breakup. And I don’t expect I’ll see you until after it’s finished. If then. So…good luck with that witch movie. Take care of yourself.” He didn’t want to hear you agree with him, didn’t want to hear you say it was for the best or that you were going to suggest the same thing or even a goodbye. So he pushed past you and followed the noise until he found the bar. As promised Alfie was there, with a few others, a shot glass in each hand. He handed one to Ben.  
“Where’d Y/N go?”  
“Oh, uh, loo. She’ll be here in a minute.”  
“Well here’s to a job well done and hopefully some fucking record breaking box office numbers,”  
“Cheers to that,” Ben clinked his glass against Alfie’s and downed the shot, hissing a little, “another?”  
“Read my mind,”  
Ben lost himself in conversation and drinks, chatting with those around him for a while before moving on to talk to more people. Beer in hand, he headed towards the side of the room where a couple of the other main cast were sitting.  
Claudia looked up as he approached, “Heya Ben! Where’s Y/N? I haven’t seen her all night,”  
It was only then that Ben realised he hadn’t seen you come in after he’d left you in the hallway. He glanced around in an attempt to spot you, a pang of worry shooting through him but then he stopped looking. _She’s not yours to worry about anymore_.

***

Ben woke up with a minor hangover the day after the premiere. Maybe it was karma. Despite what he told himself, he’d kept an eye out for you all night, but never saw you and he was more than a little worried that it was because of what he’d said. It was tempting to call and ask where you’d gotten to but a quick glance at the clock told him you’d likely still be asleep anyway. Besides, he knew he shouldn’t. He’d told you he wasn’t going to see you again and he intended to stick to his word. Instead he sent a group message to his mates and invited them around for one last hang out before he left for Spain. The next call he made was to his mum.  
“Hi honey. How’d the premiere go?  
“It was really fun, movie looks good.”  
“How long before you fly out?”  
“Couple of days,”  
“Shame there’s not enough time for you and Y/N to come over for dinner,”  
“Yeah, um, about that… we broke up.”  
“What? Why?”  
“It just wasn’t working. Mutual decision, we both felt it had run its course but decided to keep it quiet until after the premiere. So, yeah, no dinner, even if I was going to be in the country.”  
“Oh, honey, are you okay?”  
“Yeah, fine. Like I said, we both knew it was coming so y’know, no hard feelings or anything.”  
“It’s a shame, she was so lovely,”  
“Yeah, well, sometimes things just don’t work the way you think they will.”  
  


The boys arrived in the afternoon, bringing a mixture of snacks and a few beers with them. They settled in the living room to play video games. Ben liked the company. It was a good distraction. Or it would have been if talk hadn’t turned to you.  
“Bit surprised you wanted us here and not Y/N. Figured you’d spend your last days in the UK with her,”  
“Why would I when we broke up?”  
“You what? When?”  
Ben shrugged, “We broke up. Few days ago,”  
“Jesus man, I’m sorry,”  
“Don’t be, it’s fine. I dumped her.”  
“Yeah but you had to go to the premiere with her right? That’s rough,”  
“Was a bit but there was an open bar so I coped,” Ben laughed.  
“Might be time we got him back on the market then,”  
“What? We only broke up a couple of days ago,”  
“You’re clearly not too cut up about it,”  
“What the fuck would you know, you’ve been single for what is it, three years now?”  
“Well you didn’t tell us when it happened, and you never even told us when you got together. We found out through a magazine, so obviously you weren’t really that serious about her”  
“We were waiting until after all the movie stuff was done, and that’s bollocks.”  
“Excuses. Besides, getting someone new to suck you off is the best way to forget an ex. This is your phone right?”  
“Oi give that back,”  
There was a scuffle as Ben tried to grab his phone back but he was outnumbered and pinned down as the boys redownloaded his Bumble app and signed in for him, laughing about how he used the same password for everything.  
“She’s fit, give her a like,”  
“Oh I like her, might be a bit tall for you though Ben,”  
Ben rolled his eyes as he watched them swipe on profile after profile until they heard a noise that meant one of the girls had sent him a message.  
“There you go Ben, didn’t take long did it. You’ll forget all about that Y/N chick in no time,”  
Ben snatched his phone back, “You guys are such wankers,”  
“That’s not very nice considering we’ve just got you a new girl,”  
There was laughter and more teasing as controllers were passed around and the game was loaded. Ben closed the app, thumb hovering over it to delete it again. But maybe they were right. Maybe someone new would be good. He set the phone down again and turned his attention to the game.

***

Spain was beautiful and having a new movie to work on was the perfect distraction, especially considering how many stunts, fight scenes, and action sequences were involved. It gave him a chance to meet more people in the industry, people he was excited to work with, and really focus on something other than you. The cast went out together frequently too, dinners at local restaurants, drinks in the hotel bar, getting lost in an unfamiliar city. There was no trace of you there, no reminders of date nights, nothing but work and a new country to explore. Occasionally he’d get a notification that a reporter or curious individual was trying to message him, asking questions about you and the split but he ignored them. Ben deleted the Bumble app too within the first few days, knowing he wouldn’t use it. There was no time, even if he’d wanted to hook up with anyone. He could always reinstall it once he was back home. Once he knew you were in the past. Because the problem was that at some point every night, Ben would get back to his hotel suite and be left alone again. For a while he’d be able to think about what scenes would be filmed the next day, maybe practice some fight choreography. But eventually he’d run out of distractions and then all that was left to think about was you. Peter had sent through the first articles that reported the breakup and since then he’d found himself wondering if you’d moved on yet, found someone else to date now that you were allowed to. He’d considered checking your Instagram account but had held off, knowing it was a step in the wrong direction. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know anyway. He hadn’t gotten over you enough yet to deal with photos of you and another man together.

This night was much the same as the others had been. Everyone met up for dinner, followed by a couple of drinks and then headed back to the hotel to unwind. Ben decided to call it an early night. He’d spent a good part of the day hooked up to harnesses and wires, being flung at a wall over and over. He was sore and tired figured some extra rest would do him good. He was just settling into bed, trying to keep his mind on the TV show he’d put on when he heard the knock. He listened closely for a moment but it couldn’t be for him, he’d put up a do not disturb sign on his door, so he turned back to the TV and flicked to a different channel. Another knock. It definitely sounded like his door but who would it be? Maybe one of the other actors? But they’d all heard him say he was going to have an early night, so surely not. Again Ben ignored it. The third knock got Ben out of bed, stumbling to the light switch and then the door, ready to politely tell whoever it was to fuck off and let him rest.  
“Sorry but can you not see the do not dis- Y/N? What ar-” Ben was surprised. Surprised you knew where he was, surprised you’d come there after he’d told you he didn’t want to see you, surprised that you were covering his mouth to shut him up.  
“You wouldn’t reply to my texts and I didn’t know if you’d listen to any voicemails I left you but I have something I need to tell you so that’s why I’m here.”  
There was a beat as Ben waited to hear what could be so important that you’d come all the way to Spain to tell him.  
“I love you.”  
He gasped but your palm was still over his mouth so he couldn’t say anything. It had to be a joke, didn’t it? But you didn’t look like you were joking. He waited, listening as you explained everything. It was wonderful to know you felt the same but his shock didn’t lessen. He’d been so sure about everything. So sure about how little you’d felt for him, so sure you would have understood why he needed space. And now you were here telling him the exact opposite? It was unfathomable. Maybe it was a hallucination? Maybe he’d got a concussion when he hit the wall too hard earlier. D _oes concussion make you hallucinate?_ But blinking didn’t make you disappear and the hand against his mouth felt real enough.  
“I’ve missed you so much, so fucking much, and all I’ve wanted is to see you again and hear your voice and hug you and I’d really like to date you for real, or at least be friends again because not having you in my life is complete shit.”  
Ben felt tears prickling his eyes as he realised how backwards he’d had it. You loved him. You. Y/N. You loved him so much you’d flown to Spain just to tell him.  
“That’s all I had to say,” you said softly, pulling you hand away.  
Ben staired in disbelief for a moment but you looked as if you were fighting the urge to run for it and it brought him back to his senses.  
“Thank god,” it was all he could think to say as he reached out to hold you, pulling you tight against him and kissing you the way he’d wanted to kiss you for so long. Relief flooded his system when you kissed back. He didn’t have to forget you or force himself to move on. It had been an impossible task anyway. He was glad to stop trying.

It’s only when someone makes a noise further down the corridor that he lets you go, asks if you planned to stay, lead you inside and towards the couch. There were things he needed to clear up first, before he could let himself be fully happy with the situation. He looks at you properly then. You look tired, worn out. He’s not sure if it’s from the late hour or the flight or because you’ve not been sleeping properly but it makes him feel guilty that he upset you. He hates that he pushed you away and wasted months trying to get rid of you when you’d both actually wanted the same thing, to be together. But you’re here now. He reached out to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear, almost dizzy with joy that he could do that.  
“I’m really sorry for how I acted,”  
You smiled softly as you took a seat and Ben fell into the spot beside you, unable to take his eyes from you. He lets you lead the conversation, trying to sort out his mess of emotions as he explains himself.  
I thought if I told you I’d never been into you, acted like it, then I could make it true.”  
“Did it work?”  
“Of course not,” How could you ever think it would work? That he could just forget you so fast, after he’d fallen for you so hard? “Which is why I pushed you away.”  
You nodded, seemed to understand where he’d been coming from. He hesitated before reaching out to grab your hand again, a little afraid of touching you lest you turn to smoke and vanish. But you didn’t. He stifled a yawn, hoping you wouldn’t take it as his disinterest in the conversation. He’d stay up as long for as long as it took to go over everything, no matter how tired he was.  
“Has there been anyone else?”  
“Anyone else what?”  
“I saw a thing about you dating again,”  
That was surprising, not what he’d expected you to bring up. He hadn’t even realised it had been reported on. But he shook his head, explained about his friends encouraging him to move on. It seemed to satisfy you because you leant on his shoulder, let him hold you. He apologised when he yawned again, about to suggest he put a pot of coffee on so he could keep talking. But then you suggested going to bed and he had to agree.

As soon as his head hit the pillow Ben knew he’d fall asleep fast. Even with the excitement of your arrival and the buzz of joy you brought. He kept his eyes on you. Everything seemed too good to be true. You grabbed his hand and placed it around you, shuffling as close as you could.  
“You’re actually here, yeah? I’m not just dreaming it?” Ben asked, voicing aloud his biggest worry.  
“I’m here Ben.” _She’s here. In your bed.  
_ “Don’t leave, okay?”  
“I won’t.” _She’s here and she’s staying._  
“I love you,” he needed to say it again, to make sure you knew that he still felt the same.  
“I love you too,”  
It was comforting to hear you say it again too, made his heart burst as he kissed you again. He didn’t want to stop but he was much to tired to do anything else. Still, he fought sleep for as long as he could. He’d lost so much time being apart from you that, now he had you back in his arms, sleep felt like a waste of precious hours. Hours he could spend kissing you, being with you, making sure you felt loved. He couldn’t fight it forever though, eventually had to give up. The last thing he saw before he shut his eyes was you, smiling at him, as you lay beside him.

***

It had been a long day what with moving you into his house. Even after the boxes were inside and everyone who had been helping out had gone home, there was still a lot to do. Everything needed to be unpacked and put away. Ben had been clearing space on all his shelves and in all his cupboards to fit everything you’d brought with you. Plus there was new furniture from Ikea to unpack and construct. Like the chest of draws he’d been working on before he got up to stretch his legs and grab a glass of water. He caught sight of the magazines that had been left in the kitchen and, chuckling at their stories of marriage and babies, stacked them in a neat pile before he grabbed his drink. As he walked back through the living room he saw you, curled up on the floor beside the box you’d been working through.  
“Y/N?” Ben shook your shoulder to wake you, trying not to laugh as you blink at him groggily, still half asleep.  
“Alright, cuddle bunny, up you get. Time for bed, yeah?”  
“But the boxes,” you argued though it was unenthusiastic and slurred with sleep.  
“The boxes will be there tomorrow. C’mon, come with me,”  
Ben half carried you to the bedroom and helped you under the covers, leaving you with a kiss on the forehead before heading back to the draws he was halfway through building.

By the time he was finished putting the draws together Ben was feeling fairly tired himself. He moved the spare screws off the floor so no one would step on them and then headed back to the bedroom. You were still there, sleeping soundly. Ben paused in the doorway to look at you. It was a sight he loved, you in his bed. The first time you stayed over and slept in his bed rather than the guest room had been a monumental occasion though the novelty of it had worn off a bit now, especially with how frequently you’d stayed at each other’s places before the move. But still, he’d never get sick of seeing you beside him, where you belonged. Same as he’d never get sick of making you tea or trying to convince you to eat an actual breakfast or making you laugh. It was in that moment, leaning against the doorway of the bedroom you now shared, one wall lined with boxes of your belongings yet to be put away, it was then that he knew he wanted to marry you. Have a family with you, spend his life with you. He’d go out and buy a ring once you were moved in properly, though he could hear his friends telling him to wait a little longer, see how everything was living with you first. But that didn’t matter. He wouldn’t have to give it to you straight away after all. But he knew that was what he wanted with you. And now that you were together, after so much time and trouble, he never wanted to let you go.


End file.
